Silent Hill: The Red Angel
by EternalFlare
Summary: Marcus Thurdon crashes in Silent Hill, and is forced into a struggle for survival: fending off demon hordes, contending with evil will, and all the while seeking redemption for a dark deed. Feedback appreciated, despite the story being complete.
1. Chapter 1: The Red Thing

Legal Stuff: I do not 'own' the Silent Hill series, and yada yada

All characters in this story are fictional; and resemblence to actual persons is strictly coincidence.

The Red Angel

(**This is a novella: it is told through the perspective of Marcus Thurdon.)**

Chapter 1: The Red Thing

My head hurt; it hurt more than I ever thought a head could hurt. Distantly I heard a strange, loud noise. I could not figure it out what it was, but it unnerved me. I could not find strength enough to open my eyes.

'Marcus.'

My eyes twitched; I felt it. I felt cold then, and I longed to open my eyes. I could not.

'Marcus.'

The Sound ceased. I began to feel myself gain strength. My limbs loosened, my headache began to fade.

'Marcus.'

My eyes shot open. I felt cold still, but I was aware. There was fog, endless fog, surrounding my wrecked car. Suddenly my door flew open, and I fell out from the ruined vehicle.

'Marcus.'

I heard it then, the voice calling my name. Well, I had heard it, but I had thought it my mind going through memories as I slowly died. But it was not so.

'Hello?' I called; no answer. I shrugged, and stood up. The town was empty: Silent Hill. It was cold, and the fog caused me to feel rather frightened.

I saw then the Thing: it disappeared behind a corner. It was a red thing, big, and moving slowly to the eye. Mesmerised, I chased after the Thing. I had never seen such an object, or animal part. I was intrigued and scared, but I also felt as if I was being called – _summoned_, if you will.

I turned the corner; nothing. But through the fog, I saw the Thing turning into an alley. I got deja vu, but dismissed the feeling. I turned into the alley, and saw the Thing _again turning the corner_; Aggravated, I broke into a sprint. Again the Thing turned the corner. I ran on. Again it turned the corner. Again; again; again. At last I could stand it no longer.

'_Stop_!' I screamed in rage. Suddenly the Thing stopped. 'Hello?' I asked, now calmed and frightened. Slowly it moved to face me, and I saw there was naught like it. Wide, bloody, and very, very tall, and it had no hands and no (distinguishable) face.

I turned on my heel.

It leaped.

I screamed, and was suddenly silenced by the enormous spike that suddenly pierced my chest. I gasped, and clutched in vain at the hideous wound. I heard it seem to _giggle_; I felt rage at that time. I tried to scream, but only a bubble of my lifeblood came out of my mouth. The spike broke off the beast's arm, and I fell to the ground.

The whole world suddenly eroded into a hellish dungeon: the walls were now bloodied and rusted. The floor was grate, and the Sound I suddenly recognised: ambulance sirens!

I felt the spike in my chest, and saw the Thing closing in on me. I grasped the spike, and ripped it out. I cried in pain. A primal rage came over me as the damned beast suddenly _laughed_! I screamed in rage mixed with horror.

I stood, sloppily, but I stood. The beast laughed, but was silenced by its own appendage (it seemed) being stabbed through its throat. It fell to the ground and thrashed violently; I climbed atop it and twisted the spike. I tore it out and brutally stabbed the beast: it was dead.

Now I was quite frightened. My rage had ceased, and I was in fact _terrified_. I fell off the beast, which caused the shock of pain through my chest. I clutched the wound, and slid down on the rusty wall. I bowed my head, waiting for darkness to consume my thought. But Death did not come.

Suddenly the Siren grew louder! Louder, louder, louder! I lifted my head as I heard moans. There were many more of the creatures, and others I could not discern. I longed for death. I prayed for death. I threw up my hands and closed my eyes.

'Marcus.'

I snapped my lids open as the creatures bored down upon me. I suddenly recognised the voice: it was female. I did not know _who_ it belonged to, but perhaps that was because my life was _finally_ slipping from me. And then the world seemed to turn to dust, and it was blown away. I fell asleep. And the last thing I heard was:

'Marcus.'


	2. Chapter 2: The Siren's Call

This is actually part of an interactive story on which I added to under the alias 'ForeverZero', but some things are different. For any who _have_ read that story (I forget the name, but I _think_ it was 'Welcome to Silent Hill') it will not be exactly the same, for I have matured in my writing somewhat. The next three chapters will probably be based on that.

The Red Angel

(**This is a novella: it is told through the perspective of Marcus Thurdon.)**

Chapter 2: The Siren's Call

Fear: it covered me as I awoke inside my wrecked vehicle. _Alive_! It was the only thought that passed through my mind as I became more and more rational. I was not injured, but my car would not start.

The fog was still there. It seemed to mock me. I shrugged it off, and opened my door. I did not think about the horrible nightmare, so grateful was I to still draw breath!

That was a short lived feeling, for I soon discovered that the town _was_ deserted. I ran to the nearest building: a café, the '_Lucky-Star Café_'. I burst through the door with no regard to my body.

'Hello?' I screamed. Naught. The café was rather unorganized: plates were scattered across it, and trace amounts of. . . blood.

I walked over to one of the stools in front of the counter; I sat down, and rested.

My rest was short lived, however, by the crash that knocked me out of my seat. I fell from the stool, and stood cursing. The crash did not repeat itself, but I knew whatever _made_ it was still there. I decided not to even bother, for I was tired and I was weary.

I felt the 'urge to purge', and I made my way to the Mens' Room, which was near the entrance. It smelled like a corpse inside, but I truly had to defecate. I threw open the nearest stall and plopped down upon the toilet.

I felt the feces slide from my anus with pleasure; but the smell was hideous! Not my waste matter, but the strong odour I smelled upon entering the restroom. I wiped my anus, and stood up. I opened the stall door, and walked out into the smell. I nearly was knocked over by the stench. I opened the door to the stall, and found my source.

A corpse lay with its head in the toilet; the lid was cracked, and blood covered the fragments. It appeared that the victim was murdered, his head cracked open by repeated slams by the toilet seat.

'Mother of God!' I cried, 'Who could have done this?'

I kneeled down and, slowly, rolled the corpse over. A message was carved in its chest:

'_In ten minutes, the Angel will awake.'_

I looked in horror as blood, still in liquid form, oozed out from the terrible wound. The corpse had no sign of decomposing, so I figured it had been killed recently.

I stood and ran out of the restroom, but I tripped and fell, cursing, right into the room I had started in. I stood once more. There wasn't anything else really to do, I figured, and I decided to explore the outside.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa,' I said as I approached the door, '_**No way** _am I going out into that fog without a weapon.' I looked around for anything to defend myself with. There was little, but there was something: the table.

I broke off a table leg, and rolled it around in my hand. I didn't feel too comfortable with _just_ this weapon, but I left anyway.

I couldn't see the very instant I left the café. The fog was so thick and mocking that I could see scarcely five feet in front of me. Still, I knew there was building, and I broke into a jog.

I was in a small jacket, and it was very cold. I had naught but blue jeans on, and my legs were _very_ cold. The sun could not reach me through the fog, and thus it did not warm me.

Suddenly I stopped jogging. I saw a figure, a very distorted figure, armless and stumbling. I approached cautiously, but I tripped and landed right in front of it.

It looked with its faceless head and colourless eyes down at me, and I think I pissed my pants then. My eyes went wide, and I was lost for words. I saw its mouth open, and it began to twitch its neck. I, on instinct, rolled out of the way.

Yellow-green fumes spewed out where I was, and I was grazed in the back with the acidic spray; it caused no damage to my clothing, but it burned my skin. I stood and reared my table-leg back.

I swung.

The leg crashed into the faceless beast with a satisfactory crash. The beast stumbled back and fell over. I nearly laughed at it in my mania, but terror never let me do so. The armless beast twitched, and moaned, but it did not stand.

But it was not helpless: its legs shot wide open, and scrambled against the cold concrete. I watched in horror as it crawled – no – _drove_ in a circuit and charged headfirst into my legs. I fell with a startled scream.

The beast then stood up and gloated over me. Just as I had in my dream my instinct took over, and I was in primal fury. My pride (though noone would ever see this) was damaged, and I furiously hammered its chest with a vertical pound. I stood, and knocked it over again.

Its legs flew apart again, but I was not rational; I was the furious survivalist now, and I smashed it repeatedly with my club. Finally I stepped on its throat with all my might, crushing its structure and cutting its air off. It twitched and I _did _laugh.

Suddenly I heard many moans. I was knocked out of my hysteria as the creature died; many more surrounded me. My eyes became baseballs, so wide with horror. I fell down, and scrambled with my back to the wall. The things closed in.

_If only I had a gun_, I thought. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I laughed in defiance against the beasts that were about to consume me.

Suddenly the Siren sounded again, dreadfully high. The beasts cowered, and they ran off quickly. I regained my sanity, and looked around. The world had shifted, just like in my dream. Terrified, I stood and ran back to the café.


	3. Chapter 3: Wings

At first this story was in third-person, but several thoughts occurred to me: if this is Silent Hill, there's noone truly around to report what happens. The best way to get the psychological feeling is to tell it through the victim's perspective. The way it is written is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe, whom I have become a great fan of recently. One obvious resemblance to Poe's work was the fact that Marcus seems a bit mental and hysteric, much like in _The Tell-tale Heart_. In truth I did not intend it, but his madness just _flowed _out of me, and I feel its best for Marcus. Enjoy Chapter 3!

Chapter 3: Wings

Madness! Madness was upon me as I collapsed inside the café. No longer did it resemble a café, but moreover a chamber. It was rusted, bloody, with a single stool in the centre. The counter was now iron, and the walls were thick with barbed-wire.

I rolled upon the floor, pouting and whimpering. I cried, cried, cried, cried inconsolably! Suddenly my despair was lost with a glimmer of imaginary hope. _Maybe I'll live_, I thought. _Maybe_.

'Marcus,' I heard, and I glanced all around the room. I stood, shakily, and my jacket fell off, revealing my white work shirt. I did not care to pick up the jacket. I just spun around the room, paranoid. I hit the stool in the centre, and sloppily sat down.

The walls groaned. I groaned. The whole _world_ seemed to groan. Groaning from exhaustion and pain. I was not physically hurt, but my psyche was quite damaged.

'Marcus.'

I glanced around. Nothing. I was shaking. I looked desperately for some weapon, for my club was lost. I had left it outside, and I had no thought of going back out. I looked around, and spied, on the counter, the least expected item.

A revolver on a box of ammunition. I rushed over and picked them up. I cocked the revolver, and checked its chamber: six bullets. The box of bullets was large, with about twelve bullets inside. I took them out, and one-by-one stuffed them in my shirt pockets, six each. I looked side to side, nodded, and sat down.

I just sat there; it seemed hours. I nervously twitched, just sitting there in the demented world. Suddenly I heard a sound, one that made my blood run cold: wings.

Wings frantically flapping, growing closer. I started shaking, shaking violently. I grew intensely paranoid as the wings seemed right outside. I let out a little yelp, as my paranoia overflowed. I yelped again, and fell off the stool.

I was saved by sheer luck and my own paranoia.

The barbed-wire-windows crashed open as a large bird flew inside. So it seemed at first, but it was indeed not a bird. It was a winged, disfigured humanoid.

I screamed, my terror at maximum, and I scrambled on my back as the beast hovered over the stool. It shrieked; I fired.

One round.

Two rounds.

Three rounds.

The bird-man fell with a shriek as I shot its chest, crotch, and wing. It twitched violently, and I leaped on it. I jumped and jumped, crushing the beast into oblivion.

More wings? Indeed. I heard them, and panicked. I leaped over the iron counter and into the back. I had two choices then: enter the kitchen, or enter the basement.

I decided to go to a cabinet, take a small pocket flashlight out, put it in my shirt pocket, and descend into the cellar.

Not too soon had I entered the basement and closed the door did I hear many windows breaking, wings in the many, and shriek after shriek.

'Marcus.'

It came from beyond the door, and I began to recognise the voice. As I thought, my head hurt, and I slumped against the door. The shrieking continued, and I descended further into mania.

'Marcus.

'Shut up,' I whispered. There were many more shrieks, and my anger rose with annoyance.

'Shut up!' I moaned.

'Marcus.'

'**_Shut up_**!' I yelled; and it was quiet. I was shocked, and I stood immediately. I was scared, but I was past fear. I opened the door, and my jaw dropped.

Ten 'angels' waiting, perched, for me.

I had no chance to scream, for instantly one swan dove at me; he crashed through the door way, taking the door and I with him. I stumbled down the stairs; I landed hard on concrete, the angel hovering above me. I aimed and shot thrice without regard. As the thing fell and landed on the concrete I rolled out of the way.

The back of my head hurt as I frantically loaded my revolver with rounds. After closing the chamber I gripped the back of my head. It was bleeding. I had cracked my head open. I had a concussion. The room began to spin.

I blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4: Skirmish in the Cellar

_So here we are, Chapter 4. I decided to change direction from the original, which the Café's cellar led to a dungeon. Instead, I kind of went a The Evil Dead-esque chapter. I've always been a fan of the part when Ash is alone in the cabin, and has to fend off Cheryl **and**__Scotty. Of course, a major difference_ _is that Marcus has only a revolver, and is trapped in the cellar, not afraid to enter it. Also, the ending is quite inspired by the end of The Evil Dead; now that that is over, I present to you: Chapter 4._

Chapter 4: Skirmish in the Cellar

I awoke next to the corpse of the angel, and though I had been thoroughly injured, I seemed _grand_ now. I looked around, and thanked luck that my flashlight still worked.

Still I was afraid, and I knew–no, _sensed_–that the angels were still up there.

I checked my revolver, and checked my bullets; I forgot I had reloaded the gun, and I realised I was in a very bad situation. I had wasted a whole chamber-full of rounds on two monsters.

'Bullets,' I whispered, 'I need more bullets.' I couldn't go out, the Siren was still sounding, and I knew the world was probably hellish above.

I stood, and looked around. I was in a storage cellar, but it was not normal. It was too, say, _large_: there was very little actually down there, and there were unusual items; a gurney, a meat hook, and several tarps against the wall. I proceeded to climb the steps, but once I saw the rays of slight light emanating from the doorway, I knew to halt.

I lay against the steps, not daring to breath, knowing that the devil birds were up there. I could feel them, and sure enough I heard a shriek. I began to think of ways I could fight them, but I decided against it.

'That Siren will stop, and those monsters will leave,' I kept telling myself, but for ten minutes nothing happened. I heard wings, and then I felt the gust of air as the bird scouted the basement looking for me.

I had landed just out of the light, and no I was flat enough that no light could reach me. My flashlight was off, and I lay more still than a corpse. I remember I mouthed some words, something like 'Oh god, go away, come one, why are doing this to me?'

I heard the beast _sniffing_, and I closed my eyes; what good are eyes in the pitch-darkness? Suddenly a fire kindled in my soul. The last dying embers of courage were gathered, and hate flared up my whole body. With a yell I turned around, a flicked my flashlight on, and fired one round from my revolver. Sheer luck saved me, for I had nailed the beast in its throat. It fell with a shriek and twitched, and I heard the other wings rushing.

I rolled off the stairs and landed on the fence of a floor. I was in pain, but I didn't care. I flicked my flashlight off, scurried into the corner under the stair, where there was an overturned gurney. I hid behind it and waited.

The wings were a death rattle to my soul, but I blocked them out as they went about shrieking and searching. I gripped my revolver tight, and readied to aim, even if it was in the dark. Suddenly my hand gripped something beside me. It was cylindrical, and had six metal objects around its centre. I knew it to be my saviour: a chamber of revolver rounds.

'How in the hell?' I asked myself; I methodically took out all the rounds and stuffed them in my shirt pocket, and I leaped out. The wings gave me an advantage, and I shot by sound. After one flash I aimed according, and I felled two with this method before the other five knew my location. I turned on my flashlight and began unloading into one.

It fell after two rounds, for I hit it in its chest and head. I shot a diving one in the head, and fired at another as it swooped to its comrades' aid. I threw out the chamber and shut my flashlight off. I loaded the gun, flicked my light on, and blasted the thing's head.

I felt something seize me on the shoulders: one had swooped in behind. I blind fired over my head, and nailed it straight in its chest. It shrieked and fell dead, writhing on the ground for a few second. I still had one more to deal with.

'Come on out, you little bastard!' I shouted, 'I got a treat for you.' Suddenly something crashed into my side, and I was slammed against the wall. The damned beast threw me again and again against the wall, and then it got in my face.

_The Angel is woken, and you shan't be spared,_ it cried telepathically. I looked at It with disgust: it had a beak alright, but it also had many sharp teeth. It roared in my face, roared with satisfaction.

'Tell your Angel to suck it,' I said with a grim smile. I jammed my gun-barrel into its mouth and fired. Its skull exploded, and fragments of brain and bone and blood were thrown all over my face. It dropped me and I fell with a thud. Its corpse fell to the ground silently.

I felt the blood and organ on my face, and frantically wiped it off with my hands. It was in vain. Faintly the Siren began to fade, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I picked myself up and limped up the stairs.

I made it to the top and found I could support myself no longer: I collapsed upon the brink of the stair, and grasped in vain at the grate in what I guess was an attempt to pull myself up. My breathing slowed, and I fell into a slumber.

When I awoke the world was normal. I lifted my head up and looked around; slowly my head rotated, looking at the normal windows and normal diner, normal everything.

'What–in the–,' I began, but I choked on spit as I said the last word. After the coughing fit I stood, and wiped the blood off my face with a napkin.

'Gotta–gotta get ahold myself–yeah, that's right, it's over,' I whispered into the air. I didn't believe it one bit.

I limped towards the door, and gazed out. The mist was thick, but I cared not. I'd walk–run!–out of town, no matter any monsters. I opened it and looked around. Despite the wickedness of the fog, I breathed deep the cool air. I looked up; the sun was still covered by both clouds and the thick veil.

I limped down into the street, and I looked at the buildings. They sat in a strange beauty, ruined short of utterly, and yet still containing a _lustre_, an _attractive quality which I cannot describe_. I fancied hearing a sound, but I dismissed it as a trick of the mind.

Until it became clearer. Yet for some reason I could not remember it. I knew it yet did not, it was at the tip of my mind and yet I could not remember it. My head began to ache.

A fit overcame me, and I began to curse silently. I was distracted, and I began to shake my head to rid myself of the noise.

It stayed, and I started to swear violently. Anger, unexplainable anger, overcame me. I gripped my temples, and began shouting horrible curses.

Then I stopped, for cold fear gripped my heart. My eyes bulged, I presume, and I quivered with terror. I recognised the noise. I turned slowly and cast my gaze up opposite the diner; there, on the horizon was an _angel._

'_No!_' I cried in despair as the beast slammed into me; I saw no more.


	5. Chapter 5: Reminiscence

This is reminiscent of a Chapter from _Welcome to Silent Hill_ which I wrote, which involves Pyramid Head and a hardware store. Some things are different, of course, but the basics are the same. Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Reminiscence

Imagine my hysteria as I awoke! My stomach hurt, and I knew something was bruised or broken. I clambered up and looked around: I was atop a _school bus_, wrecked.

I felt then I was slipping off, and I groped in vain for a hold. I fell to my dismay upon the hard concrete. Upon landing I felt pain shooting through my ribs, but thought little of it. Long time I lay there, breathing, sorting through my mind. At last I was spurred into motion by the sound that I had not recognised earlier: wings.

I crawled under the bus and lay upon my back; I sat there and breathed, breathed deeply.The wings swooped over again and again. I felt I would fall asleep again when I heard it screech and fly away.

Still I did not move. I still had my revolver, and had I not been injured I would have fought it. At last my strength returned, and I found the strength to stand up.

I looked around, and saw naught but fog. I was weary of such _drab_ scenery–for who could stomach a bad experience everytime you left a building. I decided to make for shelter as soon as I could find it. I limped to a hardware store I spied across the street, what then seemed a _deliverance_ from the foggy hell.

I opened the door and immediately was dismayed by the darkness. I was quiet as not to disturb anything that may reside within the place. I leaned against the door, and I just sat there breathing heavily. I heard a loud moan, and the awful sound rusty metal makes when scraped together.

Reluctantly, I flicked on my flashlight, and saw a sight that chilled–no, _froze_–me to the bone. It was big. Really big, and with a helmet like a Pyramid. Its weapon of choice?: a large–sword?–that I could hardly carry if I tried.

I remember how badly my lip quivered as I stood frozen in place. Suddenly a man tore ass towards me, falling over himself and knocking some tools off.

My hand groped the doorknob; the door was locked! The man was in hysterics as he stood and backed towards me.

'Who the hell are you?' he said quickly.

'Marcus Thurdon–you?' I replied.

'Raymond Depurn.'

'W-what is that?' I pointed at the Pyramid.

'Don't ask me man, the thing won't stop coming after me!' Pyramid Head suddenly began to walk towards us.

My hand closed on a hammer, an emergency hammer with one side as sharp as a pickaxe. I gripped it, and prepared to hit it when it roared and I saw it wore tattered robes, and an arm hung from–its crotch!

I faltered; I sat back against the wall in terror, unable to hit the godless beast.

'Hit it, man,' Raymond said as he backed away.

I made no move, just quivered and stared.

'Go on, hit it–oh for God's sake!' He tore the hammer from my grasp and crashed the thing on the head; it roared, and he hit again. It prepared to swing its weapon; I then found my resolve.

I drew my revolver and, without a thought, unloaded on the lower, exposed body of the beast. It cried in pain and ran away. Raymond fell back and stared at me.

'Why didn't you _tell_ me you had a firearm!?' he cried.

'I forgot,' I choked. Suddenly it occured that I had wasted much ammunition upon the beast. I was down to my last set. I quickly loaded six bullets into the chamber.

We stood there in long silence, until at last I said: 'Are we going to take any actions, or sit here until the world ends?'

'I'd prefer the latter,' Raymond said.

Pyramid Head was gone; Raymond and I were sitting in the Common room, where the owner of this building once lived.

'What brings you here?' I said to him. He shifted uneasily in his chair, and began to speak:

'It was probably the Fifth of March when my brother, my girlfriend, and myself went up to an old hunting spot. Not a good one, but the nearest. We had our rifles and pistols, and our axe our gear–everything. My girlfriend, S—, came running up to us at the campsite about ten minutes after arrival.

' "I found a bear!" she cried; Patrick, my brother, laughed and roared "A bear this early?"

' "Yes!" said she, "and a big one too!"

'Patrick and I exchanged smiles. We grabbed our rifles and made our way out. We decided to stick together while S— stayed at the campsight.' He bowed his head and sniffed. 'We came back, and there–there sat that bear.

'It had her in its arms, and immediatly I aimed and fired: I missed the bear and–and–I hit S—!

'Patrick looked in horror, I saw it on his face. The bear was outraged, but Patrick's was the fury. He killed that thing with his bare hands; monster of a man he was.

'Then he turned on me; I stammered in apology, but he went on. "You screw up! You sissy! Ever shot a gun before? Her death is in your hands, you bitch!"

'At last I could withstand it no longer: I aimed and shot him in the chest, killing my own blood. I grew fearful, _very _fearful. I got in my car and drove off, drove here to Silent Hill. Now what brings you here?'

A long time I sat in silence; he could tell how badly it pained me to speak of it:

'My wife and I,' I began, 'we lived in Brahms. A nice house, no kids but we were _happy_. I loved her, my Anna, more than anyone in the whole world, and would gladly die for her. I knew she loved me too.

'It was a few days ago maybe that I had recieved a phone call from my associate, K—, who told me to write her number down and call her when I finished my latest book.

'My wife found K—s number, as well has her name: she confronted me one night. I was beside myself with rage at the notion of me _cheating_. I would never!

'She kept at it, how _hurt she was_, and all that. She threatened to leave me, and after I denied it at last she tried to. But I was no longer sane, no longer rational, and I–I–.'

'You killed her, didn't you?' Raymond asked. I nodded; tears rolled down my face, and I hung my head.

'I hid the body,' I said in a dark tone, 'Walled in the cellar. Always loved _The Black Cat_, and a night passed. I felt such guilt for Anna, beautiful Anna's death, and her brother's appearance and threats made it no better. At last I was forced to kill him.

'So I got in my car and drove, wanting to drive through Silent Hill. But some woman was in my way, and I swerved into Silent Hill and crashed.'

Raymond nodded and sat back. He sat in deep thought. 'You're a writer?' he asked.

'Yes,' I said, 'I write fantasy and horror.'

He laughed and gestured around himself; 'Bestseller material right here.'

I chuckled slightly, and sat back. 'I was writing about a man with bottled up rage; I had no idea it applied also to myself.'

Suddenly I heard the Siren. 'Not again!' I cried and stood up. Raymond just looked around and sighed.

'Silent Hill night time,' he said, 'When the Angels prowl. The Red Angel–beware of him.'

'Who?'

'We're about to pass out; brace yourself.'

Sure enough I felt myself get light headed. I felt my legs buckle, and my face hit the floor. I closed my eyes, and took a well earned nap.


	6. Chapter 6: The Armoury

_Chapter 6: it is not without inspiration either. Mostly it is inspired (ala the last scene; I know it's unlikely, but it plays a big part in the next Chapter, so just trust me please) by **The Evil Dead **__but it is also inspired by a story here on FanFic: Silent Hill 4: Introspection. I do believe that Marcus is a bit of a coward, but I'm hoping to give him a little more bravery, **very** gradually. Also, I want to put the disclaimer after ever Chapter that's a multiple of five: I do not 'own' Silent Hill, any of their **places**, **people**, or their **creatures**. Now that's done, I present Chapter 6:_

Chapter 6: The Armoury

I was in terror as I woke. Who wouldn't be? It was truly a terror to behold, this broken world. I immediately drew my revolver, and I for many minutes I stood there.

'You okay?' Raymond's voice asked. I spun around to see him there with the emergency hammer he took from me.

'Yes,' I said, 'I'm _fine_.'

'When the sun sets,' he explained, 'the world is revealed for how it really is.'

'Oh,' was all I said. He stood up and took a pipe off his belt.

'You want to survive, you gotta conserve ammo.'

I nodded, and took the pipe without question. It was steel but light, sturdy and stained with blood. I swung it around a bit, and I began to like it. It was about three ft. long, and I was aching to test it out.

My moment came as Raymond called me out into the hallway. His flashlight (in his coat pocket) was upon three strange, mannequin-esque creatures: they had legs were there arms should be, and no head. He looked at me, and walked forward. Casually he crashed the pick side into one. It let out a cry, like a man being tortured, and–punched?–him. I ran to his side and leaped; I brought my pipe down full-force upon it, and it fell to the ground. I reared my leg and kicked it. It twitched and died.

Ray was bleeding, but he claimed he was alright. I ran over and bashed the pipe into the next mannequin relentlessly, and it fell with the same _exact_ howl. I kicked it, and it died. I moved for the last one, but Ray stopped me.

'I'll get him,' he said. He moved over to the last mannequin, and swung the hammer. Listen, for it was sight to see; he swung it from as far back as he could be, letting the _weight_ of the hammer smite the beast to the floor. He then proceeded to hack it with the pick end. At last he kicked it. It croaked.

We proceeded down the hallway, and were presented the option of either _left_ or _right_. We chose left. In the door on the left we found the Pyramid thing again! I near screamed but I held myself together. But, alas, Ray _did_ scream. A small yelp, but all that was needed to alert the Devil. It spun on us (it appeared to have been raping some creature) and grabbed its sword. I, with a steel pipe and a gun, fell back while Ray stood there and thought.

'What are we going to do?' I asked. He just stood there and looked as Pyramid Head closed in on us.

'Do something!' I cried.

'After you!' he yelled back. I, without much thought, just wanted to disarm the creature. I took out my gun and fired at its hand; with a shriek it clutched the wound and howled.

'I understand now,' Ray said in a daze. I ran forward to the creature as it dropped its weapon.

'We're being punished.' I gripped the damned thing's helmet and heaved.

'I wasn't sure until you came.' Its head was exposed: it was just like those armless creatures in the face, but it had a clear mouth and eyes. It howled.

'We're being punished for our sins.' I tore my revolver out and fired twice between the thing's eyes. I slammed it repeatedly with the pipe, and it groaned. It shook violently, and then began to howl relentlessly.

'We'll die no matter what!' I ripped his hammer from his hands and slapped him.

'Shut up for the love of god!' I screamed. I ran back to ex-Pyramid Head and smote him with the _blunt_ side of the hammer. I then hit him with the sharp end, and he fell down and writhed. Ray grabbed the massive weapon it had been using and helped me lift it; we pinned it down with the massive thing, and Pyramid Head just struggled to get out.

I fell on my ass and just sat for a while, breathing heavily. Pyramid Head made horrible noises in the back of its throat while I just rested. Ray had his hammer back.

'I thought you were the veteran,' I said to him flatly.

'Sorry,' he said, 'I lost control. But, you killed Pyramid Head. In every journal I've found, noone's ever been so daring as to take the offence.'

'It's just another monster.'

'It's the "Red Devil", and the most feared by the Resistance.'

' "Resistance"?'

'Yeah, I'm looking for the Resistance, a group of people living here.'

'Where are they?'

'If I knew, I wouldn't be here right now.'

'We should find them.'

'It's not going to be easy. They've got forts set up in several places, but the Angels are out in the day now, ever since yesterday.'

'How–how long have you been here?'

'Six days.'

'What do you eat?'

'The stores are refilled every–ten days I read.'

'That doesn't make much sense.'

'It's good for the Resistance.'

Pyramid Head was writhing in torment, but we ignored his howls. The greatest monster in Silent Hill? Bah! He was weaker than the Angels to me.

'We should get moving,' I said.

'Not until daylight.'

'Okay, but we should leave this room.'

We entered the right room, and found a storage room. There were several things of interest there: a chainsaw, a flashlight battery, some drinks in the mini-fridge, and a bunch of tools. On one shelf I saw a toolbox with a note on it:

_Eight days Has it been that long I'm so tired I give up Theres ammo and an ax in the box I couldn't do it I couldn't save them I'm worthless ——s please forgive me_.

Sure enough there was ammo and an ax in the box: the ammo was about three boxes of twenty-four rounds, and I was in euphoria. The second item was a hatchet, a few bloodstains on it but otherwise clean.

Raymond looked at the chainsaw and shook his head: 'It's messy, heavy, and slow. I'll pass.' I eagerly grabbed it and examined it. There was a hole in the back, a place for me to stick my hand inside it. I'd seen it on a movie once, and I knew it'd be handy no pun intended. I slid it on my arm, and found a bar was inside for my hand to latch onto. I tightened the hole around my arm, and revved it up.

'Now,' I said to Ray, 'let's carve a path out of hell.' He grinned and held up something I hadn't seen: a twelve-gauge double barrel.

'Would you mind?' he asked, and motioned at the chainsaw. I gladly but carefully sawed the barrels off, and he looked in pure awe at how dangerous it looked. He showed me a box of shells, and a duffel bag was hanging over his shoulder.

'Let's go.'


	7. Chapter 7: Duel with the Devil

_Chapter 7: The Chapter I'm currently the most proud of. I wrote this to Rush, which I don't do often, as Pearl Jam often is what inspires me with its dark lyrics. A small sliver was written to Metallica, but mostly sadly it was penned to **The Body Electric**. This is greatly a change-of-course from my other work in this novella, as it contains the most action so far. I wanted to write a good and at least page-long fight scene for a while now, and here it is: The Duel with the Devil._

Chapter 7: Duel with the Devil

We entered where Pyramid Head had been writhing in torment; he was no longer there. His sword was gone, but some blood remained, and the monster he was raping (a straight-jacket demon) was no longer there.

Ray was unnerved, and I just raised an eyebrow. He held his hammer over his shoulder with his left hand, and his double-barrel in his right hand, and his duffel was hanging from his shoulder. I had my axe in my left hand and my chainsaw on my right, as I was hoping to conserve ammo in case I ran into this 'Red Angel.'

We came to a strange sight. It was a normal room, like one of a little girl: the walls were pink, and there were stupid cartoon figures adorning _everything_. Ray's eyes went wide, and he nearly grinned, but I just stood there, grim and attentive. The windows were barbed and bloodied, but that is all that was strange in that room. It gave me a headache.

'I don't think this is right,' Ray said, 'I doubt we'll get out through this way.'

'Yeah,' I agreed, 'but still, duty calls.' I entered the room, and instantly was greeted by one?– no! – two? – no! – five? – _no _– _six_ mannequins leaping from the closet. Once more that terror was woken that made me fall back, and I saw a bright flash. Raymond filled three of those things with buckshot, but they kept coming. I got up as Ray fired his twelve-guage once more; two of the things fell with a stream of blood and organs, but the other four just stumbled and came on.

I revved up my chainsaw and charged forward – stupid! – and was greeted by an appendage in my chest. I had managed to hack the thing off with my saw, and a great many organs streamed from the stump. I heard Raymond loading, but one was bearing down on him fast. He saw this fortunately, and, labouriously, swung his hammer with one hand to intercept the mannequin.

He finished reloading and fired instantly; one fell, and two (including the one attacking me) were filled with buckshot and had holes pouring blood everywhere.

I, hesitantly, ran forward and dealt one swift chop with my axe. The target fell and writhed on the ground; I hacked it twice more, and then I stomped it.

Ray fired his shotgun once more, and then he holstered it. He gripped his hammer in both hands, and thrust it into a mannequin's crotch. It roared that masculine scream, and when he brought the merciless weight of that beloved weapon down upon the beast's . . . _upper-crotch_ area – it split in half, and crumbled to pieces. Only one remained.

I revved the chainsaw up and tore it apart at the waist; a great torrent of cold blood sprayed all over me. I remember my exact words, and exactly how I said them: '_Dear God_, it's _cold_!' I was screaming, and I had to rest and clean myself off before I could continue.

In the closet there was naught of importance, and Ray just muttered 'Senseless battle,' which I could not disagree with. We took the little stairway down back to the first floor, and we scavenged around the tools there. We found many batteries for our flashlights, and we stuffed many into our pockets.

Raymond suddenly yelped and loaded two shells into his gun. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He was clearly, and there is no tender way to put this at the moment, _scared shitless._

I just took a breath and opened one of the doors in the back. It was just a complete empty room. Behind the counter was interesting: it was a small storage room. There was a straight-jacket demon wandering around in senselessness, and I found it my duty to dispatch it mercilessly with my power-tool glove. By now I was soaked in blood, but I cared not, for I was not in a mood to care about looks. Raymond had a few stains on his flannel, but not many, though his hair was thick with sweat and his face covered in cold perspiration. Mostly my shoes were covered too, but it bothered me none.

There was a door in the back of the storage room, and it led to another hallway, though this one seemed more likely to contain just generators and such; but there was nothing to be seen of a power conduit anywhere. The walls were bare, just like the café, and it brought back the painful memory of the Angels.

There were four doors in the hall, and Raymond decided it'd be faster if we slit up to search each room. We'd call if we need help. I got the door on the left, and he the door on the right. My door contained two mannequins. I dispatched them without incident. There was nothing else but a key on a chair, and I took it. Raymond's room contained three straight-jackets, but one pump of buckshot and two swings of that mighty hammer quickly solved the problem. He came out with a burn on his hand, but he claimed it was 'Just a graze.'

I took the door on the right this time, and instantly knew that I made the right choice. Any other man may have said otherwise, but I felt I was more ready to take on my foe in this room than Raymond.

For who else would I face than Pyramid Head!? He groaned a groan of hate and vengeance, and he came at me with amazing speed. With speed that surprised us both I put my axe away and drew my revolver; I pumped three rounds into his torso, but I might as well as poked him now. His helmet was back on, and now he seemed more alert. I knew I had caught him off guard last time. I felt fear _now_.

'Raymond!' I screamed, and I frantically grabbed the doorknob – locked. 'God no! No! _No_! Open up, for the love of God! It's in here, that Pyramid, _OPEN UP_!' I heard him fire at something, and rush to the door; he tried the knob, but it didn't open. The door was steel, and I knew he could not open it by force. Pyramid Head was upon me then, and he swung his knife with a roar. It barely missed me.

I shot one more round at him, and he stepped back a small step, like one who is hit with a loud noise might. A stupid thought came upon me then, and I raced over to the helmet once more; I tried to saw it open, but it merely shot sparks everywhere. He punched me in my stomach, and I flew back against the wall.

'Marcus!' I heard Ray cry; I made an attempt to say 'I'm here', but all that came out was blood and a moan. Then that bastard with the helmet swung his knife down. I rolled out of the way, and tried to cut the blade in half; for once something I did _worked_ against the thing!

Then he did something I thought he would never do: he punched me, and then, now that his weapon was much lighter, swung it overhead to eviscerate me. But, by sheer luck, I brought my chainsaw up at the right moment; sparks rained everwhere, and though he had more strength, I had more determination. He relented, and I did a rather desperate act. I, with a revolver with two rounds left in it, shot him in the groin twice. He roared in extreme rage, and threw his knife. He reached for me, and I tried to attack his hands with my saw; I was in delirium, however, and he grabbed the tool and pulled it off with great might. Terrified I kicked it out of his hands. I landed a short distance from him.

I tried to scurry, I did, but he caught me by the ankles and began to drag me – into a closet! He was going to rape me? I vomited at the thought, but my desperation saved me. I loosed my axe and cut at his leg. My chainsaw was right beside me. I slipped my hand into it and grabbed the bar; I tightened it, and he pulled me into the closet.

The door burst open! Raymond flew in with a piece of – timber? – in hand, and had battered the door in to save me. But I was forsaken by anyone but me. With a cry of 'no!' I revved the chainsaw and stabbed into his groin. He let out a piercing howl, and deathly hot – like the fires of Hell – blood splashed out onto my face. I was covered, soaked, and it didn't stop. I writhed as it spilled upon me. I assume Raymond was terrified and couldn't even act, and I would have been too.

Pyramid Head loosed his grip and fell to his knees, gripping his crotch. He howled, and it was pitiful. I lifted his helmet up, and revved my chainsaw up. Without a cocky remark, I began sawing him to _fragments_, _pieces_, and I only stopped when I could do no more without bending over. Pyramid Head lay smitten in his ruin before me, and I stood, victorious and covered in a demon's blood, with a friend who cowered behind me.

'Marcus?' he asked quietly.

'Yeah Ray?' I replied, stepping back from my handywork and looking at how soaked I was.

'Dawn's coming,' he said; his voice broke.

I sighed and said 'Finally.' I leaned back against the wall.

'You need a shower, man.'

'I need a drink.' I left the room. Ray, after a few moments, followed.

I dueled with the Devil and lived.


	8. Chapter 8: The Messenger

_Really, I've had Strep-throat and a sinus infection, so I haven't been able to write recently (except Friday, when I missed school and had a shot from the hospital to make my pain go away, which is when I added Chapter 7). Now I'm a lot better, but I've had school recently, and now I do not._ _Thus, for a short while, I'll be able to write (as well as read). But, alas, only on weekends and sick days will I have time to write, so this should be a pretty slow project. Anyways, I've droned on a little longer than I intended, so thus_ _I give you Chapter 8, which I have not thought about hardly at all, and I will probably be winging it._

Chapter 8: The Messenger

By now you will think me delusional and mad, but I tell you now it was and is not so! I am perfectly rational, if not scarred, and I remember everything said and done as if the horrific memory were yesterday.

I remember now we came to the door which led outside. I was still bloodied and bruised, but I cared not. I was close to leaving that damned tool shop.

The sun rose as we stood before the door. A high-pitched howl, like that of static, flared up in my head. I felt my legs give out and my eyes (as Raymond told me later) rolled back into my head. With a groan I passed out.

I awoke to concrete underneath me. I felt it with my hands. I felt it with my _mind_, if I can use the expression with a rational meaning. Ray lay on the wall parallel to mine, and he was still asleep. I stood, sloppily, and nudged him. He awoke and pointed the shotgun at me.

'Holy shit,' he swore, '_Never_ do that again! One gets paranoid during their stay here.' He lowered the gun.

'Sorry,' I said, 'It's daylight though, and I don't want it to go to waste.'

'What time is it?' he asked. I checked my watch.

'Eleven A.m.'

'Well, let's get a move on; the sun won't last forever, like you implied.'

I opened the door, and instantly the fog entered. Chainsaw back on my arm and revolver in hand, I motioned to Raymond. He raised an eyebrow.

'Is your shotgun loaded?' I asked bluntly.

'Yes,' he said, 'But your revolver isn't loaded.'

'You do it,' I said, motioning to my chainsaw arm, and handing him the revolver and a chamber in my right shirt pocket. He (albeit slowly) loaded the gun, and when the chamber snapped shut, I got a tremor in my spine; it was a feeling of dread, dread of an unknown battle that I knew but did not know. I believe I am saying: an inevitable battle that I did not know _who_ I was fighting, or when.

He noted my little shiver, but said nothing. I took the gun back and stepped out into the cold fog. The blood of Pyramid Head had lost its heat, but had not dried; now the cold air on my wet skin was torment. I yelped, but did nothing more. Ray shook his head, and followed. Once again, I found that feeling of grotesque awe overcoming me. I was dying to know what the town was, but was terrified at once. I was confused above all.

We were in Old Silent Hill, which I had never been to. Raymond had a map, and he looked at it then. He noted the location of the shop, and said we were trying to reach Alchemilla Hospital.

'Why?' I asked.

'Some Resistance detachments are there. Or, at least, were there last time I read a note.' He shrugged.

'So we're shooting in the dark here?'

'Pretty much.'

'Delightful.' I looked on the map, and said 'Do you know where their _main_ fortress is?'

'Yes,' he said, 'But it's impossible to get to.'

'How so?' I persisted.

'When last I read, the fortress was isolated from the rest of the town by a legion of monsters. And the only way to get there was through the woods and through a very hidden and heavily guarded route.'

'What's the other route?'

'Didn't say. Only said: "The Sun blocks, but the Dark reveals it and its Thousand Guards."'

' "**_Thousand Guards_**!"' I screamed, carlessly.

'I doubt that's exact,' he said quietly.

'We have no chance here,' I moaned, 'Either an old military fort that is probably abandoned, or a route guarded by thousands of monsters! And with our luck, they'll all be Pyramid Heads!'

'We have to take a shot.'

I groaned and just said 'I'll take the main fort.'

'So be it.'

'You don't care?' I asked.

'I lost all hope for survival on the third day.'

'I'm on my third, and I know what you mean.' Suddenly, just like the day prior, a small, faint noise I heard. Once, twice, thrice – all in a strange rhythm.

'Wings,' whispered. Ray caught it.

'Guns,' he said, and he whipped his shotgun out; I cocked my revolver's hammer and waited. I then noticed how beautful the revolver was with its long barrel, sleek black steel and comfortable grip. There was some company scratched on the barrel, but I didn't care to read it. Whoever they were, I thanked them for that gun.

The Angel let loose a shriek, and Raymond instantly screamed 'There!' I looked up and saw the creature, great wings in air. It was tan, and resembled somewhat of an Incubus. Raymond aimed but did not fire; I did however, and it slowed and began to fall. I smiled, much like when a sadistic child smiles after nailing a bird in flight with a pellet gun. It landed in front of Raymond, and then he fired. His gun's spray brought forth a storm of shrieks and sparks, and I gazed at the second-long fireworks with admiration.

It tried to stand but the emergency hammer hit home straight into the beast's back. Again – again – oh, again! The beast's wings stopped trying to rise; with a weak groan the beast died. Raymond flung his barrel down and the shell popped out; he slid a fresh one in, and smiled.

'We have a chance if our luck runs this good from now on.' I couldn't bring my gaze off the beast. It was so. . . pitiful. I bent down and nudged it. It didn't move. I rolled it off its stomach and I saw the strangest sight: something was carved on the centre of its belly.

_**To Marcus and Raymond**_

_So thou hast braved the Devil and,_

_Survived three nights in hell,_

_My will alone can stop you but,_

_Just this I have to tell:_

_What you seek is out of reach_

_The rogue and bastard ones._

_Unlike them, you will be punished,_

_To my throne you will come._

_You can fight, and you can run._

_But victory shall **never come**!_

I was shaken, but Raymond just laughed. 'He's blowing smoke,' he said, 'the Red Angel isn't going to stop us. I rolled the beast over and saw a verse that I hadn't seen:

_Remember, it is I who is in control._

Raymond reared up and kicked the dead beast. I shook my head, and yelled 'You aren't in control of anything!'

I fancied hearing laughter, but I knew it was my imagination. 'Who is this "Red Angel"?' I asked.

'Noone knows,' he said, 'Some people write that he is the Punisher, others say that that's Pyramid Head, and some say that the Red Angel is a deliverer. Others that he is Satan incarnate, and others that he's an alias of some murderer.'

'Has anyone ever seen him?'

'Yes. The Resistance has fought him, but only briefly. Only one battle was ever recorded, and that was titled '_The Great Battle of Fort Hanson_.'

'Hmm. . .'

'That was against thirty-three of those mannequins and sixteen Angels.'

'I don't want details at the moment. Let's just try to find the Resistance.'

Ray nodded, and we began walking.


	9. Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

Chapter 9: This is a small chapter, which I wrote in my free time. It is just building up to Chapter 10, which I intend to be a little more serious. That's pretty much all there is to it, so sorry if you were expecting more. Here it is.

Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

True! I did not know what to expect when I ran walked through the streets of Silent Hill. The time passed slowly as we passed from Old Silent Hill into Silent Hill. It was four when we arrived at Heaven's Night, and we decided on going in.

'I'm not here to watch some mockery of a woman dance,' I said, 'We're here to get through to that Fortress.'

'And with that fence, this is necessary,' he finished. He turned the knob to the door and opened it. 'After you.'

I walked with my axe out and chainsaw ready. There was instantly a mannequin upon a pole, seemingly trying to simulate humping. I halted and just watched.

It danced with fervour and vigour, twisting around and spreading the top legs wide open. Suddenly four more appeared, and they moaned in unison as three strange, faceless – nurses? – appeared. They grasped the pole with strange longing, as if it was the centre of their desire, and began to gyrate around the pole, longingly yet feverishly groping and caressing it.

My mouth was open as I watched the grotesque dance occur. Ray looked as if stricken dumb, and the beasts didn't appear to notice our lights. To and fro they danced and we just let them be. Despite what I had said earlier, I couldn't look away. They were mesmerising.

'We have to stop this,' Ray whispered, 'We have more pressing issues.'

'Yeah,' I said, 'I'll take the ones on the l—,' I began but suddenly we heard the door on the opposite end open and close. The dance halted. We flicked our lights off, and then we heard a familiar howl.

Pyramid Head had come.

Instantly I found my hand on my chainsaw rev, ready to fight for my life. Raymond aimed his shotgun at the darkness before us. Suddenly the lights on the stage exploded in a sea of multicoloured light. Pyramid Head was watching the grotesque display.

He watched the dance for a while, but then he beat his helmet and howled. He gripped a spear he had brought and skewered a mannequin, and then turned it on the nurses. They fell limp.

Soon all the creatures were dead, and I knew to fight when he turned to us. He shoved all the tables aside and walked with great speed towards us.

Ray backed away with fear. He knew he was not in fact fit to battle Pyramid Head: his shots would ricochet, and his melee weapon was not fast enough. Still I knew I could not fight him alone, for the conditions were much different.

'Let's dance,' I said as I revved my chainsaw up.

'I thought he was dead,' Ray said.

'He should be!' was all I said as I caught his metal spear with my chainsaw and swatted it aside. In a spur of the moment I kicked him and sawed his spear arm off. He howled and punched me in my chest with the force of a bullet. Ray suddenly was upon it then, blasting a hole in its helmet. Where the metal was gone there was a hole which no light could reveal what was on the other side. Some shots ricocheted, but none hit him or me.

I then did the by far most reckless thing ever done. I stood, and charged the beast. I stooped and, with one hand, gripped its helmet in an attempt to tear it off. He hit me with the stump of his arm. I hit the wall, but did not stop. I went around back and slashed him brutally in the mid-section with my saw. Never had I heard such a howl of pain and hate. The saw ate through his flesh and threw blood everywhere as the beast tried to turn. I was nigh halfway done, however, and as he turned my angle turned. Soon his torso slid forward, tilted by his helmet's weight, and with a hew of my small axe, slid off. Pyramid Head had organs, but they were of sickly colour. His legs writhed as he slowly died.

There was a small stone tablet that slid out of his upper-half. Upon it read '_2/3_.' I knew it to mean 'second of three Pyramid Heads'.

'Good!' Raymond said, 'Only one more to go.'

'Yeah,' I said, 'But I've got the feeling that this isn't the hardest, and that the other won't be so soon.' I still had that feeling of an impending battle, and I couldn't shake it.

But I could grab a soda on our way out of the door.


	10. Chapter 10: Sins and Sorrows

_Chapter 10: Chapter 9 was a tad strange, even for Silent Hill, and I wrote it in the span of twenty minutes. It was two pages long for WordPerfect 11, and written in a different font size (15) whereas uses 12. This I'm doing the same on, but I've decided to write it with the size of about six-eight pages. This contains several poems I wrote in spare time, some of which I've lost but are the basic template. Oh, and here's the Disclaimer: I do not own the Silent Hill series, or anything in it. I'm eager to start, so here is is Chapter 10:_

Chapter 10: Sins and Sorrows

_That is not dead which can eternal lie._

_And with strange eons even death may die. ––H.P. Lovecraft_

The encounter with Pyramid Head was not forgotten for I had more blood on me and Raymond had blood on his shirt. The soda I was drinking, a bitter cola, never was more welcome. I craved more a bottle of whiskey, but the bar was behind us and I didn't want to see any more 'dances'.

'It's getting late,' I said to Ray as we found ourselves looking upon something fascinating: a woman was walking against the railing of Rosewater Park. She was in shorts and a red green jacket; she wore boots, pretty high, and her hair was blonde. She was shivering.

We casually were walking towards her when she brandished a Beretta and aimed it at us while shaking. She screamed a little. I was deathly annoyed by everything at the time, and the first impression of me was probably not a good one. I raised my left hand (holding the revolver) and said 'Put it down cupcake, we're not monsters.'

She shook as she put the gun down, and then she began to cry; she ran up and threw her arms around me. I was startled, and I couldn't say anything coherent for a minute. Finally she looked up at me and I saw she relatively pretty green eyes. They seemed to have their own luminescent lustre, not reflecting light but emitting it.

'Who are you?' she asked, 'I thought this town was deserted.'

'It is,' Raymond said.

'She looked at Ray and smiled a little, and then she looked me up and down.

'I know,' I said, 'I've got a little red on me.' She looked at the chainsaw, and she crossed her arms.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Raymond,' Ray said, 'and this is Marcus.'

'An honour,' I said, waving my chainsaw and bowing. 'Who are _you_?'

'I'm Anna.' My blood ran cold, and I fancy my heart skipped a beat. I looked slowly at her and asked 'What did you say?'

'_Anna_,' she repeated. I swallowed and turned away towards the water. I whispered her name, my wife's name, and lowered my head. I felt the tear, but I didn't wipe it off. I missed her so much, but she was gone. Gone, gone, gone beyond recall. She would never come back. Never. I looked out beyond the water. Nothing – wait! – a _forest_, large, and dense.

I then looked at the sky, and saw that it was _slightly_ tinted orange. I discovered that it was twilight. Despair set in. Raymond was speaking with Anna, who suddenly got a shameful look on her face. He said something, she nodded, and they walked back towards me.

'I know,' I said, 'Otherworld is setting in. Ray, I think we're on the wrong side.'

'You're right,' he said, 'We should get going. Good luck Anna.'

'What?' we both cried in unison. 'You're going to just _leave her here_?' I cried. He got a shameful look on _his _face, and he shrugged. 'It's getting dark!' I scolded, 'She's alone! We can't just leave her here!'

'I just–,' he began, but stopped, 'She said she was leaving; we are finding the Resistance. It's _quite_ simple.'

'Ray,' I said, 'She's not going to get out! You _know_ that!' I turned to her. 'How did you get here anyway?'

'I came in through the cemetary, and the path is still open. Just, there are a lot of these weird bird things flying there.' The Siren then sounded.

Anna fell first; Ray fell second. But I did not fall. Well, I fell to my knees, but I fought with all my strength to stay coherent. It felt like someone was stabbing my brain with thousands of butcher knives at once, but I hung on. All went dark. They then went on at my command. The pavement turned to the signature grate, and the climate instantly shifted. The water became a concrete substance.

The mental anguish ceased. I collapsed, panting, but I retained consciousness. I scurried to Ray and woke him up. He did not lift his shotgun for I seized it and merely slapped his face once. He looked everywhere, and finally fell back cursing.

'How long were we out?' he asked.

'About ten seconds.' I said proudly. He looked up startled.

'You didn't – couldn't have stayed awake!'

'I did.' I then scurried to Anna and gently shook her shoulder. Her entrancing eyes opened softly but pierced into my soul. I swallowed hard and said 'Wake up.'

'What–,' she began, but she then saw the grate and the sky and she started to scream. I clasped my hand over her mouth and said 'Sshh, it's okay.'

She began to cry a little, but she quickly collected herself and stood. She brushed herself off, and said 'Let's get out of this place.'

I nodded, and looked at the water. 'It's become some strange, concrete substance. We may be able to walk over it to reach the Resistance.'

'No way,' Ray said, 'Even if it is faster, I'm not risking it.'

'Me neither,' Anna said. I nodded and cast a glance at my chainsaw arm. Anna gave me a weird look but I dismissed it. I lifted my arm and admired the blade.

'I'm low on gas,' I said, 'And two Pyramid Heads aren't good for the motor or the chain.'

'What, you want a new one?' Ray scoffed.

'I'd like a lighter one, this isn't easy to tote around.' I swung it labouriously and raised it. 'This baby's saved my – our lives countless times. I respect her.'

'Hey man, chainsaws don't kill monsters. People kill monsters.'

'What are you implying?' Suddenly Anna screamed, and we turned to see a straight-jacket demon. I casually shot it twice and it dropped dead. Raymond kicked it for me.

'Let's get _out_ of here!' Anna cried. Me and Ray nodded to each other. We all began to walk towards Nathan Avenue. We then walked up it until we reached the Historical Society. In front of us, blocking the bridge, were ten mannequins and four nurses.

The next part is a bit fuzzy. I remember revving my saw up and shooting the nurses down as we closed in, and I remember Ray spraying buckshot over the area. His shotgun went in its holster and he started wildly swinging his hammer. Long and heavy, it devasted about six.

I, empty revolver and quite low on chainsaw fuel, resorted to my axe. It was small, rusty and bloody, but I'll say it was my buddy. I hacked a mannequin and another; both died. I then felt a blow to my side, but I gritted my teeth and took it. That mannequin then got six hacks of the axe, and a kick. A gunshot rang out, and Anna stood there with her gun smoking. One mannequin fell dead. Two remained. With two hacks I took them down, and Ray kicked one while I kicked the other.

'I'm getting too tired for this,' I said, 'I got hit.'

'Same,' Ray said, 'But it was minor.'

'You guys are good,' Anna said, 'Really good.'

'Chainsaw isn't for show,' I said, and I laughed mildly. 'You're a good shot too, nailed one. That's more than I can say for my first shots.'

'You never told me what happened on the day you arrived,' Ray said.

'Well, I was attacked by some Red Thing, spit on by a straight-jacket, and attacked by ten Angels at once. I was thrown across town onto a school bus, and then I met you.'

'Hmm,' he said, 'I had it about as bad. I was mauled by dogs, fought Pyramid Head three times, killed two mannequins, and an Angel. Then I met you. Red Thing?'

Suddenly I stopped walking. My head began to hurt as I thought of that Red Thing. What was it? I hadn't encountered it in the town; maybe I killed the only one? It didn't seem right. It felt different than the other monsters of this town.

'I-I-I-I can't remember too well,' I said, and started to walk. 'Big, strong, fierce.' A great headache suddenly tore through my head and forced me to the ground. It grew to excruciating magnitude, and I began to cry.

'Oh _God_ make it _**STOP**_!' I yelled. I saw the Red Thing killing me, repeatedly. Over and over that spike pierced my chest, and I broke it off. But I didn't die. It was just a dream.

Or was it?

I stopped breathing. Not only was I questioning my sanity, but also my vitality, my own life. Was I dead? Trapped in Hell? Purgatory? I began to feel the hunger for air, but I could not bring myself to draw breath. At last my resolve broke through and I sucked in a massive breath as Raymond slapped me.

'I'm dead!' I cried, 'I'm dead! It killed me Raymond! I'm _dead_!' He slapped me again.

'You aren't dead.'

'How would you know?' I screamed back.

'It killed me too. It's just a dream, I went back to the exact alley where it occurred; plus every note I've read states that it is like a prologue of the horror to come.'

'I need a drink,' I said. Ray unzipped the bag and took out a drink. I chugged it and threw the bottle onto the water. It hit concrete alright. I put my head in my hands.

'I think I'm going insane. It's too much to bear, this constant puzzle of what the hell is real!'

Anna walked over and put her hand on my shoulder. 'I had a dream about it too,' she said, 'When I passed out.'

That comforted me.

I felt myself growing to like this Anna. Never as much as the real Anna, but she was very nice. Pretty, good aim, and knew what to say. I then realised that she was a lot like my Anna. She wasn't looking when I cast her a hateful glare; maybe she was some doppelegུnger created by Silent Hill. But then I felt something strange. She wasn't Anna at all, she felt original yet familiar. I can't describe it.

I stood and began walking farther; what I saw then suddenly made all my organs shut off for a moment.

'Fuck. . . no. . .' 'Pyramid Head?' Ray asked as he walked up; but then he gasped. There in front of us was a sight that I wished we had never seen.

Sixty Angels perched, silently, looking at us. Anna began to scream but I instantly shot her a look that made her freeze. She walked up to us.

'How are we going to do this?' Ray asked me as we stood as stone.

'Shut your light off,' was all I said. His light went off. One Angel fluttered a little.

'What are we going to do?' Anna asked as she clutched my arm.

'Run like hell!' I said as I shut my light off and charged forward. I heard Raymond close behind. Anna clutched in greater fear than I've ever seen. Sure enough, just as I thought, the beasts tore off into the air and shrieked. Sprinting in the dark, sure, but we were better off running than fighting.

Wings flapping in desperation was all that filled the air at that time, and sure enough we all felt the grate shift to grass after a while. Soon the wings died down. The beasts just hovered in that same spot, shrieking. As my luck would have it, just as I turned my flashlight on, I ran straight into a nurse-demon.

I believe we were both equally surprised when we collided, but it was stunned. It just lay there, twitching. I wondered if I had killed it, but I then knew better when it cracked my leg with its pipe. Not risking any gunfire, I tore the axe out and brutally decapitated the thing.

When at last I collected myself, Ray tapped me on the shoulder. He grabbed Anna gently by the arm and we began maneuvering the forest. It was not a forest so much as a large collection of steel pillars now. I asked Raymond if the 'Door would be revealed now that it is dark.'

'Yeah, I hope so,' he said. The wanderings were quite uneventful, aside from finding a few mannequins and straight-jackets. It was probably about an hour before my flashlight went out. Ray handed me a flashlight battery, and no sooner had he done that when _his _shut off. He replaced his battery, and we continued.

After another hour we came at last to a strange door. It was steel, and with four body-bags (filled) hanging with slits in their chests. A message was written upon the centre of the door, above a very long decorative sword:

_Four graves, four blades,_

_The keys to the hall,_

_Four bodies, four names,_

_Hanging on the wall._

_Two have sinned, two are pure,_

_The names they are the clue,_

_Find the keys upon the graves,_

_And I'll have audience with you.– The Devil._

'That bastard!' Ray said, 'We've been through enough already!' I walked up to the wall and read the names aloud:

'_Desperation–Raymond Desmond; Kindness– Sarah Clearwil; Rage – Marcus Thurdon; Innocence–Anna Thurdon._'

'Which way is the grave yard?' I asked. Ray checked a smaller map, more detailed.

'This way.' We walked into a very graveyard, gothic and arcane. I just wandered, looking at the graves, and suddenly I saw a long, jagged red dagger embedded in the dirt of one. The name on the grave was: '_Marcus Thurdon; 1976–2—._' I took the knife out and looked to the grave beside it. There was a beautiful, pearl white dagger in this one. The name on the stone, as you may have guessed, was: '_Anna Thurdon; 1977–2007._' I stared blankly at the stone, and bowed my head. I missed her still. I took the dagger and dug into my grave. There, I found a piece of paper.

_The Act of Rage, to come this far,_

_Must mean your will is set,_

_For that I do admire, but,_

_Your sins I shan't forget._

_Precious Anna, hair of gold,_

_Eyes the deepest blue;_

_In the centre of chaos she,_

_Sits, awaiting you.– The Angel._

That was like a whole shitload of C4 going off in my heart: all my anger at this bastard was blown away, and I began to thank him for this note. But where was the centre of chaos? I thought it may be where we were headed, pulled along by this false hope.

I then dug into Anna's grave, and the name on the envelope here made my heart skip a beat: _Anna_.

_Dear Marcus,_

_Do you remember that time in the spring, when we took that trip to Silent Hill as teenagers, just dating? I loved it. That lake, that park; the people there. Everything was perfect. I told you I wanted to live there._

_Two years passed, and we were officially married. The happiest days of my life, especially the first night in our house. . . _[I blushed there; I remembered that night well, but trust me, I'm not about to share it here _that night, oh, I wish it could happen over again. But it can't._

_Then I asked you to move there. You said 'maybe.' But, then we were __**seperated**__ and we didn't. _[I officially was confused, but read on_ Well, I'm there now, waiting for you. Please come and see me. We need to talk again._

_Love, Anna._

I sat back on the grass. I heard Anna approach, and felt her put her hand on my shoulder. I was numb. Numb with _hope_, the only hope I'd had for a long time. I felt things were finally looking up. Anna, my Anna, was alive? She said it in this letter. Maybe I dreamt killing her? And her brother?

'Damn,' I whispered, 'Why in God's name did I _do it_?' Ray walked, with his head bowed, up to me and said 'I have two daggers.'

'Me too,' I said, rising. He nodded, and turned away. He began to walk, but he turned back, and said 'I got a letter. From the Angel, and–Sarah.'

'I got a letter from Anna and the Angel,' I said, 'She's waiting for me.'

'Sarah's waiting for me too. In the–"epicentre of chaos." Why would she be there?' He said the last part more to himself than to me.

'I don't know,' I said, 'But whatever it is, we have to go there. Fuck the Resistance, I don't care about them anymore. I want Anna.'

'The Resistance may be able to tell us something. Let's keep going.'

We walked back to the door, and, fearfully, stabbed the daggers into the appropriate corpse. We heard a great scream, and the long-sword in the centre of the wall came off with a click. Ray took it, and opened the door. It was pitch black inside. I stepped inside, but my foot made contact with nothing. All there was was a Pit before us, a hole. Not even thinking, I just jumped in.


	11. Chapter 11: Return of the Red Thing

_Chapter 11; I'm in shock from having gotten this far. And it has been a lot harder than I first expected, but I find it has been worth it. There is a small amount of satisfaction that one can get from reaching a certain point in any project, and I received mine on Chapter 10. This will be approximately twenty-five 25 chapters long, give or take one or two. I opened this program to write Chapter 11, not a large introduction, so without further adue: Chapter 11:_

Chapter 11: Return of the Red Thing

I woke up with enough ambient light (for my flashlight had mysteriously turned off) to see a figure amble off into darkness. I was in a corridor, with Raymond and Anna behind me. I thought I had broken my chainsaw (or worse, a bone) but it was not so. Everything was _fine_.

My head hurt, that is all I can say. The floor was not a grate, but rather a cold obsidian, and we should have been dead. Not bothering to wake up the others, I stood and looked around. Our corridor was very narrow, and there was no hole above us. I readied my axe and walked forward a little. I saw then a large creature, taller than I and very thin. Its face was mutated, and it held a mace. It head a helm upon it like an Egyptian god. It resembled a lynx that had become roadkill. It growled at me and charged.

I ducked a blow that went sideways, and hewed its chest. I then smacked it with my idle chainsaw, and hacked the axe into its face. Its blue blood ran free, and I barely avoided the stream by stepping back. It fell with a shriek. Ray jolted up, and shouted 'Marcus?'

'Yo,' I said tiredly as I limped to him. He grabbed his hammer and double-barrel and stood up. I kneeled down and nudged Anna. She woke, and I gave her the small mace I took from the abomination behind me. She swung it around a bit, and nodded. We walked down past the body, and found it led to what seemed to be a shrine. There were two lynx-devils flanking a great statue of something, and upon seeing us they charged.

I immediately caught my target's mace with a swing of my axe and buried the weapon into its face. Much like always the blue blood flowed from the gruesome wound. It fell with a groan and died. Ray parried a mace swing with his hammer and blew his lynx-devil's head off with a handfull of buckshot. Anna stood between us and watched.

We looked at the statue and saw it indeed was not truly any statue: it was a corpse, a sacrifice we presumed, extending from the ceiling. Anna vomited, even though it was enveloped in stone up to its head, which a helmet that had spikes driven through little holes was revealed. We continued.

We came to a room similiar to the other, with two lynx-devils flanking the sacrifice. Getting tired of this already, I revved the chainsaw and leaped, burying the blade deep into its skull. Blood sprayed everywhere, even a little on my shirt, and by now a lot of blood was off my face and the gallons on my shirt had dried. I finally took my blade out and saw it continued to swing at me in its last moments of death. Ray simply crashed his hammer on his's head and his dead.

We continued to find another such room. I used the same tactic I did on the first one I ever fought, simply aiming for the face and hacking it with my axe. Anna, however, aided Raymond. She (apparently, for I didn't see it) went around behind it and cracked it on the head with the mace.

The next room was different: it was big, and with many writings on the walls. Three lynx-devils were in the room, and I was glad to have Ray with me. Instantly he fired buckshot into the whole room, blowing one back and killing the other. He put the shotgun in its holster on his back and charged in, hammer in both hands. I tackled mine, and decapitated it with my axe. There was a hole in the centre of the room, with a large lot of spikes at the bottom. We left the room through the parallel corridor as soon as the beasts were dead.

That corridor had a lynx-demon inside, which I dispatched with my handy-dandy axe. We traveled farther to see another one. Same method. Another dwelled further down. Same method. At last we came to a great shrine, worshipping some strange bird like deity. Ray whispered 'That's him, I suppose. The Red Angel.'

I didn't like it the first time I looked on it: its wings were great and there were four. They were spread out like angels', but they were mutated, and had talons erecting from them at different spots. Its torso was muscular, and its arms (it had four) were of two types: the top kind were gigantic, mutated claws with one enormous one in the centre; the botttom pair was smaller, more average, but it still had talons. Its legs were like that of an birds, with talons, only its legs were much thicker. At last its head, triangular and with beak lined with great teeth (for the thing was roaring) and its eyes were hateful even in the statue. I didn't even notice the _six_ lynx-demons that were walking towards us. Ray and Anna did, but by then we were flanked. When he informed me of our peril all I said was 'I got right.'

I revved my chainsaw up and leaped at the beasts, spiraling my blade around as I did so. I severed one in half (the centre one) but was hit in the rib by a mace to my left. I knocked me into the one on my right, and as I went down I hacked its face and rolled away as it started to bleed. I dropped my axe and tore my revolver out; I loaded two rounds into its face, and when two chunks of its head were gone I relaxed. The beast fell; I rested and watched Anna and Ray.

Anna closed in on the one to the far left, parrying a mace blow and cracking its skull open. The centre one nailed her in in her leg however, and she toppled. It then closed in on Ray. Ray had dealt an uppercut with his hammer into the right one's chin. Its head flew off in a shower of blue blood. The centre one raised its mace to dealt a fatal stroke to his cranium.

I acted then, firing one round into its head. Ray turned to see the monster, but Anna cried: 'Shit! There's more!' There were a lot more. Ray took out his shotgun and fired. Click. A look of horror overcame his face as three more out of about twelve were gaining on him. I shot them down after screaming 'load it!' I then stood as I saw eight coming my way. I revved the chainsaw; all it did was sputter. I obtained my axe and gathered all my strength.

'Anna!' I cried as I charged into the fray. I leaped as I high as I could, swinging my saw into one on my right's face, and it came down. I hacked one on my left's face, and turned the axe on the right one. As it died, I charged the next one. One closed in on my back, but I ignored it as I killed the before me. As the back one closed in, I turned and furiously murdered it. I heard a loud shot and saw the remaining four coming after me topple one by one as the shot fired four times. Anna's gun was smoking.

'I owe you one,' I said as I dropped my chainsaw and loaded my revolver. I immediately aimed and systematically shot down Raymond's attackers. He took down three with a shot from his double-barrel, and when only four remained, he looked to me and nodded. He gripped his hammer in both hands, and ran in like a mad man. He spun around and nailed one in its chest, killing it from the force. He spun back and brought the fierce weapon upon the second one, and when it fell to the ground he ran back to Anna.

I wound up and hacked one lynx-devil from behind, and when the other one came for me I just shot it between the eyes. I grabbed my saw and fell down. We all got in a cluster and took a break. I grabbed a drink and layed down, worn from the fighting and mental anguish. After what my watch said was ten minutes we grabbed our stuff and left. I no longer bore the empty chainsaw on my arm; we stored it in the duffel bag, which Anna agreed to carry while Ray and I fended off the demons.

In the room in which the skirmish took place there was a single corridor to the west, with a great eye above it and a gate that closed behind us. Anna was in panic but Ray comforted her. I just walked in front, numb and vigilant. Stirred by hope, I would do my best to ensure our survival. I tightened my grip on the axe and cocked my revolver.

The corridor ended. We came straight to a large door. It had a great skull on top, and a label in the centre which read:

_A Father who had killed his son,_

_Was plagued by guilt so fierce,_

_The memory gathered in mind,_

_And haunted him for years._

_White oil, black cup,_

_He wallowed in the creek,_

_Crimson tome, Lost book,_

_What think you he did seek?_

Anna groaned. Ray scratched his head and asked 'Does that even make sense?'

'I'm sure it does,' I said, 'to someone who knows the religion of this temple.'

'I don't know a thing,' Anna said.

'This sounds familiar now that you speak of that,' Ray said, 'I read about this in some notes. I bet I've still got them.'

'Start reading,' I said. He nodded and rummaged through the duffel bag. There were many different kinds of paper: notepads, stationary, napkins, so many weird things. He pulled out a notebook, a college-ruled notebook, and began reading it. The label on the front said '_The Report of Dr. Richard Wintrop_'.

It was about ten minutes later when he put the book down and began searching with his flashlight. There was a small pad of letters there, illuminated themselves once his light fell upon them. He stood up and punched in this: _R-E-B-I-R-T-H_. There was a loud click. The door began to creak open. I readied my axe and aimed my gun. There was nothing but a corridor.

'How did you know it? How did he know it?' I asked.

'He worked for a cult, until he was prosecuted for being a spy or something, and he was banished.'

'Here?'

'He doesn't specify. He just writes: "_I work to regain the chrism, the goblet, and the two books that shall renew my life. Then I shall escape from this place and destroy their god with my bare hands. Do not cross me. Noone crosses me. Here I lay, at the bottom of darkness, waiting for the ingredients._"'

'With those things, is it possible to rebirth anyone?' I asked.

'Yes,' he said, 'I'd imagine so.'

'Are they here? Does it say how? Is that all we need?'

'Why do you care?' Ray asked, but then his expression changed. 'No. No Marcus, I won't let you. It's not natural.'

'Saving it for Sarah?' I asked. His look went cold.

'My Sarah is waiting for me at the end, and so is your Anna. So shut up, and get going.'

Suddenly I felt different; all the emotions I once had, all the thought, were gone, and I got a headache. Those emotions were not natural. I never would have thought of resurrecting Anna on my own. Confused, I caught Raymond by the shoulder.

'I'm–I'm sorry, Ray, I–can't think too good right now.' Then my headache magnified and I collapsed. All went blurry, and shapes around me mutated and terrified me. I was sinking fast. Into what? I heard sirens in the distance, ambulance sirens, and was becoming very cold.

_I'm coming out of it_, I thought,_ I'm sinking back into the real world, being lifted up by some ambulance as I become colder and deader. I'm dying. Finally: the hallucinations are over._

A pain shot through my cheek as I snapped my eyes open. I saw Anna and Ray sitting over me. I flew into anger.

'Leave me to die!' I cried, 'Why couldn't you let me die?'

'You weren't dying,' Ray said.

'I was leaving this nightmare, going back to the car-wreck and–and– going to see my Anna!'

'You were falling into madness.' I closed my eyes and hit my head against the wall.

'Where's my gun?' I asked. Ray took it out, and handed it to me, along with my axe. I stood and turned back to the direction were were headed in. I broke into a run.

'Hey, stop!' Ray screamed. I just ran on. I, upon retrospect, have no idea why. I ran. Ran. Ran, ran, ran, ran, ran. At last I came into the great chamber.The floor was grey, like the colour of pavement, and the walls were grate. High above me a large triangle was carved in the ceiling with a circle around it.

Suddenly I heard it. The opening and closing of a door. I took my gaze from the symbol on the ceiling to look at what Death had brought for me. Pyramid Head stumbled out with his spear bloodied; I drew my revolver and waited for Ray. Just as he arrived, however, a large parapet came crashing down behind me and cut us off.

Ray cursed loudly. I fired a round into Pyramid Head's helmet; nothing happened. I decided to go pure melee and gripped my axe. I charged up and swung. Pyramid Head stabbed forward. Something then, sheer accident, saved my life. I felt a searing pain in my leg, the most horrible pain I'd felt, as I heard Ray's shotgun go off. I buckeled, and the spear swung right by my head

Ray's shots had gone stray. A stray shotgun blast saved a man's life. I was on my knees, and knew I had to act. Ignoring the buckshot in my leg, I dove forward and hacked Pyramid Head's knee. I felt his mighty fist clamp around my throat. I saw the spear rise, and barely got my hand up in time (I dropped my axe) to catch it. I remember crying out a 'Shit!' and surging all my strength into my arm to force the spear back up. Multitasking, I aimed my revolver up the helmet and fired. Pyramid Head fell back and tried to grasp the wound through his helm. I fell back and gasped for air, groping for my axe.

I got it and charged Pyramid Head in red fury. I hacked his spear arm; again–again–again! It fell off and bled all over the floor. His spear fell harmlessly. I dropped both my weapons and lifted the light spear. I kicked Pyramid Head's helmet up, and when he lowered his head once more I skewered his throat (I presume) with his spear. Blood surged out and he froze, perfectly (inhumanly) still.

I found we were in the centre, nearly the exact centre, of the room. I saw the parapet rise in front of me.

'Aww what is this, Gladiator?' I moaned. As the new monstrosity clambered forward I looked at it with the highest horror possibly ever felt. That Red Thing had returned, the spike-armed tube-headed giant. Ray stared at it with shock and backed away. I flew to the lattice and shook it violently.

'For God's sake _please_! Please get it open! Oh God, open it!' I screamed, constantly throwing gazes back at the thing. Ray suddenly picked up my chainsaw and began toying with it. Seeing no help forthcoming, I turned and raised my revolver.

'Alright,' I said, 'I killed you once, unarmed; I'll get you this time.' I fired a round. The hole spewed a small squirt of blood. I fired again. Missed (I aimed for the head, which lolled around making a strange sucking noise).

I heard a great sound: the sound of an engine starting. I whipped around as the Thing began to truly close in on me. From under the parapet and slid the chainsaw to me. It came short a little. As a spike was thrust at me I leaped lowly and slid to the chainsaw. Whether it was divine intervention I'll never know, but my arm (now clear of any weapon) slid dead-on inside, and gripped the bar; I tightented the hole, and rose. With axe in hand I paced around the creature. I heard my chainsaw burning low, and knew I had to act. The Thing turned as Anna capped it. I thrust my chainsaw into its hip. It cried a terrible wail, and spun on me. It ripped the saw off my arm. I hacked its arm as it prepared to strike and retrieved the chainsaw. I (not putting it on my arm) sawed the arm off, and it writhed before it lost all life.

I then put the saw back on and slashed its stomach. It tried to hit me with its arm again, but I axed it and sawed it off. I then furiously slashed its stomach. It fell to its knees and made a desperate whine. I put my axe away and raised my revolver; with one shot its head was taken off.

Not ten seconds after it died did its body disintegrate. Both parapets rose and the exit revealed a great stone tablet which read:

_My pet thou hast slain._

_Audience granted._

I slumped my head and barely heard how great a fight I had fought. I put my chainsaw in the duffel again, for it was dead now, and had my traditional weapons.

'Why me?' I asked. 'Ray, you can fight; why me?'

'I don't know. You're Pyramid Head killer, and you've got the problem with the Red Thing. I think my time will come soon.' Anna was quiet.

We came at last to a large, red door. This is not quite a good analogy, but I'm going to say it anyway: it looked like the boss door from Yoshi's Island. All read, many bumps, and no knob it just opened by itself. There was a throne at the end. The first thing we heard was:

'Welcome.'


	12. Chapter 12: The Oddest Fight

_Well_, _I wrote Chapter 11 in three days, due to time constraints and a foggy mind. I plan on writing Chapter 12 in a shorter span, so I'm penning this introduction during my scarce free-time. Chapter 12 may be more thought out and not as spontaneous due to the fact that now I have time to procrastinate (it's a problem I'll work on in a while) and sit around thinking about random things. I'm writing this simply because I have a need to write right now, and since I've got no idea what Chapter 12 is about at the moment, why not write random babble? So now that I've got an adequate sized intro, I present Chapter 12:_

Chapter 12: The Oddest Fight

I could not speak as I looked upon the Devil. This was not the Devil from the Bible, of course, but rather a cloaked figure in sitting upon a throne. The room was bare, completely bare, just stone and the throne. I looked upon the disgusting beast with a face of dislike. That voice had chilled me to the bone, and I was secretly readying my weapons.

'Here in the heart,' came a voice dark and cold and deep, 'you will come to understand.'

'Heart of what?' Raymond asked.

'The Heart of Despair. What you seek is far away, young fools.' Anna shrank back. Ray stepped back. I took a step forward.

'Where's my wife?' I said. 'Give me back my Anna.'

'Anna is dead. You killed her!' He began to laugh maniacally.

'You're lying,' I croaked in my rising temptation to cry.

'You're lying,' it mocked, and continued laughing. I flew into a fury and shot at it. The bullet landed right beside the Devil's head, and he stopped laughing then.

'I've been through too much today to be shot down by a maniac,' I said as I closed in on him, 'I want my wife.'

'She's in the _Centre of Chaos_, not the _Heart of Despair_,' it said with finality, 'And you will be in the Mouth of Madness.'

'What?'

'I've been asked to free you of this Purgatory, and condemn you to Hell. And so I shall do. Prepare thy self: it shall be a long journey. You've a lot to learn about life, young Thurdon, and you lost your chance!'

Suddenly he stood, and I saw that he was caped. A cape of flesh, and his armour was bone. Skulls adorned his arms, and he had a thick bone bracer. He drew a long claymore (made of rusty steel) and laughed maniacally.

Was I afraid? Strangely no. I was amused. Amused that this idiotic being was the best the town could come up with. He looked like a generic movie villain, with the skulls. He scared me not.

Until he charged. He leaped at me with his sword ready, and I – knowing that no axe or chainsaw would block the strike – leaped out of the way and came up with my revolver. I emptied the chamber and put it away (all my spares were in the bag) so I could better grip my axe.

This next part I know noone will ever believe, but this is how the fight truly occurred. Ray leaped forward and attacked the Devil; the Devil lifted his claymore and parried, while I snuck in and cleaved his back-armour. He growled and backhanded me: I flew far back. I looked up and saw that I had overlooked the sole decor of the room.

Great armoured knights with _swords_ in their hands.

I ripped the sword from the knight and ran to the other side. I gave Ray the other one's sword. He took it with out question, took a breath, and shrugged.

'Oh well,' he said. 'Here goes,' I said. Both attacked the Devil on the same side, swords crashing against his with bland repetitiveness. His claymore was enormous, and I knew a new tactic was needed. He was insanely fast with his sword, and mine seemed odd in how sturdy it was to resist such a large sword's assault. Mine was a brand new sword it seemed, whilst his was long rotten.

I got behind him and had raised my sword to strike when the flat of the sword connected with Ray's stomach. He flew to the parapet where Anna stood helpless and collapsed with a groan. 'No!' I screamed, and when the Devil laughed I just stared with hatred into his eyes.

Many minutes _seemed _to pass before we both gathered enough will to attack. I went first. Overhead chop, left swing, right swing, overhead swing, thrust, spin right chop, overhead right swing. His claymore entered the air to parry this, and I constantly battered my sword with all my strength against his while I prepared for the side assault. I kicked him in the chest, kicked his claymore away and stabbed his throat.

As I began to walk away towards Ray I caught Anna in my glance: her eyes went wide while she tried to speak, and as I turned around I gawked.

The Devil stood, gripped the sword in his hand, and began to work it out. Anna yelped and unzipped the bag; she came out with the sword that fell from the door.

'It's a thrusting sword, it'll never–,' I began but she silenced me.

'Shut up and fight it!' she said in a strict and annoyed voice.

'After you,' I scowled, and took the sword. I turned to see him coming after me with the smaller, quicker sword. I ran to him, and caught his sword with mine as it made a direct route for my throat. I deflected it and moved to strike his head; he parried, and we stood locked in random attacks and parries for many moments. And then I saw my advantage when his sword went wide. I tore my axe up and hewed his neck; I then tore it out and hacked his skull. He shrieked and fell down. I tore the axe away and plunged this sword into him. As soon as I did, I heard a hiss.

The sword combusted, and the Devil caught fire. Then the sword magically (for what else can I call it?)froze. It froze with actual ice, and the Devil did with it. I rushed to Ray. He woke up and coughed a little blood.

'Mother of–damn,' he said, 'My stomach hurts.' I laughed for less than a second before I took his hand and pulled him up.

'I'm tired of having to do all this stuff,' I said, 'Why do I always have to fight the weirdest stuff?'

'I don't know,' Ray said, 'But I just want to get out of this place.' As soon as he said that the throne burst into flames and collapsed, revealing a door. It was a plain wooden door, like one in a house. I turned to him; he turned to me; I turned to Anna; we all nodded. Anna tossed me an energy drink and warned me that we were nearly out. I loaded my revolver and didn't look back as we went through the door.

The smell was bad enough.


	13. Chapter 13: Gasoline

_This is by far my least favourite chapter to write. I dislike writing without violence (well, in Silent Hill) and this is pretty much without any._ _This chapter was originally named 'Happy Family Planning' after the Paranoia Agent episode. Alas, I did not keep the name because this is not a parody and the name is a parody of the chapter. Who knows; maybe I'll get around to a parody? Know that I'm not good at this stuff here: the dull conversations of where the people are going. In my novel (during rewriting) I'm stuck in a similiar spot due to my refusal to write the conversation parts. I like to read works that act as locomotions: always moving forward._ _Anyways, this chapter will be low quality and somewhat cheap. It was hard on my head, and I'm giving it that special ending I always use, just to show I care. Sorry if that doesn't meet the standards: it's all I can do with such a boring thing, and it's just building up to the climax._

Chapter 13: Gasoline

What happened when we stepped through the door? We instantly found ourselves face down on the grass. It was as if nothing had ever happened: the fog was back, the sun had come, and I found that I was well rested. We looked up: there was a strange steel building just ahead. Ray ran for it first, for there was sound coming from within.

People. People laughing and shouting

Anna got up next. I picked myself up and stood for a while. It was over for now. I walked out onto a little path and came to the building. The doors loomed ahead, where Ray and Anna had entered. Even if I hadn't wished to enter, I would have for them. I turned the knob. . .

. . .and opened to find Ray grabbing me inside and laughing. We closed the door and walked inside. I looked and saw a large group of people, maybe thirty, with various weapons, looking at awe at me in my utterly blood soaked clothing.

'Hello,' I said faintly with a wave of my hand. 'You have any liquor?' One man smiled and said 'I like him already.'

An older man, thin, wrinkled, and with a cool moustache looked at me and said 'You look like you've been through Hell and back.'

'You could say that,' Ray said from in a corner. Anna stood beside him. There were several women scattered around, I noticed, but the majority was men. I sat against the doorway and closed my eyes. I heard my heart beat, and it lulled me to sleep.

I awoke on a cot, military-esque, and sat up in panic. I fell back, thinking the past four days a nightmare and sat back up, looked around and saw that the room was bare save this bed. I sat off the edge of my bed and collected myself. I then stood and left the room. I was in a hallway now, with many doors along the wall. I counted about fourty. I ran through the hallway until I came to a set of double doors.

Inside I found the older man, a blonde haired woman, a ragged man, and Ray around a table discussing something. They looked up upon my entry, and Ray laughed.

'You've slept a while.'

I took a chair and sat with my head bowed. 'What is happening to me?' I asked.

'A hello would be–,' the ragged man began but I cut him off.

'What is going on? Someone tells me my wife is alive, then they tell me she's dead, but still telling me that she's at the Centre of Chaos.'

'It's okay, boy,' the old man said softly, 'What we know we'll tell you. If you're going to repent to that bastard, we won't hinder you. Your friend has explained the whole situation. But we won't aid you. We're resisting the town's nature.'

'Which is?' I asked.

'Purgatory: it's here to make you repent, to make you apologise for your sins. You will meet the Angel at the End, and there we know not what happens.'

'Will I see my wife?'

'I don't know. I just know where the Centre of Chaos is.'

I stood up swiftly. 'Where?' I demanded.

'Do you have a special place here? A place you are tied to?'

I tried to think. Where was our special place? We didn't have one, I thought at first, but I gradually came to remember. The thought, due to its irony, hit me like a hammer in the groin.

'The Lucky-Star Café,' I said with a blunt tone and blank face. The place I started from.

'That's your special place?' the woman asked incredulously. I leaned against the wall and reminisced about our stay there. We sat in that café for _hours_, just talking. I can't even remember what about, but we just talked and watched the people. It was there that I had proposed to her. It was there that she said yes.

'You must look for a strangeness in the Café,' the old man said, 'That place is but a path that leads you to the Centre: the Church.'

'What about me?' Ray asked, 'I want out of this.'

'Where is your special place?' he asked Ray. Ray sat in thought. After several long moments he hung his head.

'I don't know.' He then got a 'lightbulb' moment and stood up: 'That Amusement Park!' he cried, and he made for the door.

'Wait!' the old man said. Ray stopped and turned.

'You can't go out there with so little supplies. You and chainsaw-arm will get rations and chainsaw-arm will get some spare gasoline.'

I looked to the arm I'd had my chainsaw on, and sighed. 'I'll leave tomorrow morning.' They all nodded, and Ray stood up and took me by the shoulder.

'I guess this is goodbye,' he said quietly.

'Yeah,' I said. I clasped him by the shoulder with my right arm and shook him gently. I smiled and hugged him.

Later, when it was nearing darkness, I grabbed the duffel bag and sifted through my ammo: there were two chambers with a note that said '_Sorry, duty calls_.' I took the chainsaw and put it back on my arm. I put the revolver in my holster and my axe I held in my left hand. I took one of the three cans of gasoline and began to pour them into my saw. I closed the lid and put the half-full bottle in the duffel.

Ray and Anna came in then. Ray took the remaining shotgun shells from the bag and put them in his own. He slung his hammer over his shoulder and departed with a final nod of farewell.

I looked at Anna. She was leaned against the wall, seemingly doing nothing. 'What are you doing?' I asked her. She looked at me in confusion. 'Aren't you going with Ray?'

'No,' she said, 'Ray met someone who wanted to go with him. Some girl named Sahara.'

I froze from my action of zipping up the bag. He had met someone whose name was similiar to his victim's; I had met someone whose name was the same as my wife's. I knew then that Anna was not a friend, however friendly she appeared. I almost killed her there.

'Well what are you doing?' I asked as I continued to zip up the bag. 'Staying with these guys? Good luck then.'

'You'd leave me here?' she asked, shocked, 'You'd just leave me here?' Her eyes flashed angrily. 'You're a jerk! You've always been a jerk.' I felt a little ashamed; but mostly angry.

'Don't say I've always been a jerk,' I said in the creepy, quiet anger I was good at, 'You don't even know me! I've just met you, and you just assumed that I would want you to come with me? Not that I don't, but–.'

'Than I can come?' she asked, having lost all anger. I was dumbfounded for a moment. I closed my mouth and turned swiftly.

'Fine,' was all I said. The Siren sounded, as always, at that perfect moment. Anna fell to the ground; I leaned against the wall, and struggled to stay conscious. It didn't work. After so many days of stress my mind was fragile. I fell to sleep as the floor shifted.


	14. Chapter 14: The Bowels of Madness

_Chapter 14: In truth I liked writing Chapters 1-10 the best. Those were 'the good times'. The times when I was oblivious and carefree with how many Chapters I consumed. Now I have to be frugal with them, cautious that I don't end with too few or too many (I want to break even at twenty-five.). I'm really nervous about writing now, as I'm walking the tightrope over a pile of horse manure: if I fall, I'm in deep shit._

Chapter 14: The Bowels of Madness

It was three o'clock when we reached the café. Instantly I felt that uneasy feeling. At first it looked normal: like nothing had ever happened. The corpse had rotted away, leaving a swarm of maggots in its wake. They swarmed the bloody spot as if there was a nest there. I didn't want to know.

Anna vomited, but I didn't care. I was being cold to her, and I was not ashamed. I was consumed with a strange hate, one I can not describe as it had no origin. I'd had it ever since I met her. I considered shooting her straight between the eyes. I could not do such a thing. Not again. Not to another Anna. If it had been her I'd have cared less, and might not have been here. But I killed the Anna I loved, and to add another murder would be too much.

The chainsaw hadn't been used much, just to kill a mannequin or two. The road here was strangely easy. This café wasn't on the map, but it was seared into my memory where we were, even after I was thrown by an Angel. My power tool was beginning to feel heavy, and I felt the need of sleep. I left the restroom without Anna.

'Wait for me,' she said. I walked behind the counter and looked in the kitchen. Nothing. I looked in the pantry: there was a long steel pipe (about three and a half feet long) curved at the end. A note on stationary beside it said: _If those pesky thieves come back, give 'em what for!_

I took the pipe and put it on my belt loop. I descended into the cellar. At the foot of the stairs my flashlight died. As I replaced the battery in the dark, Anna appeared and called 'Marcus?'

'I'm here!' I called back, 'My flashlight's battery died.' I flicked the switch and there, before me, stood a mannequin. I cried out and swung the chainsaw; the beast grabbed and pulled it off my arm. It then punched me in the chest. I flew back, dropping my axe, my bag, and the revolver. I landed on something wooden, and as I stood it broke. I fell down a pit.

It seemed to go on for minutes, until I landed on a gurney. I hit it sideways and bounced off it, landing on a stone floor. Suddenly I felt something cold hit me hard in my back. I reached around as I screamed and took it by the handle. It was my revolver.

I luckily kept one little chamber in my shirt pocket, and I stood. I reached on my belt loop and took the pipe off. I put the revolver in its holster and proceeded with caution. I was in a strange place. The walls were wooden, and the floor too. There was a strange oppressiveness in the chamber, so I–without any delay–ran forward. I ran down a long hallway, stopping to deal with a mannequin.

I simply bashed it with the pipe repeatedly until it died. I ran past it and just kept running. When I came to the end, there was an elevator beside me on my right, and a staircase leading down on my left. I was about to call the elevator when the doors sprang open. Out stepped Anna.

I sighed relief and lowered the pipe that I had raised by habit. Anna took one look around and shuddered. I shrugged and searched the duffel she had brought: sure enough, my axe and all were inside. I put my chainsaw on, put the pipe in the bag, and readied my axe. We took the stairs. The only enemy we encountered was a nurse demon. She fell with a chainsaw wedged in her cranium.

We proceeded down with caution silence. She was so dead silent nearly all the time. At least Ray and I would talk a little. I found myself missing his company, that shotgun and that wicked hammer. I wondered how he and 'Sahara' were doing.

I was brought out of introspective by a duo of nurses at the bottom of the stair. I hewed one's brain, but the other landed a vicious blow to my hip. I fell, cursing, but, came up with an equally vicious chainsaw swipe, taking its legs out with it. I stood and buried my saw into its throat. With a moan it stopped moving.

There were two doors before us: one wouldn't open, and the other barely did. Inside was a small hallway with two doors on either side, and one at the end. I told Anna to go inside the alternate door, and she did. I entered the left-side door, and found a key labeled '**Ce–mo-y**', with parts rusted over. I also found a nurse with a large, black dagger pierced through her throat. I ripped it out, hewed her once, and put the dagger in the bag. I then left.

I entered the right-side door and found Anna was nowhere inside. I did find, however, a great sword-like weapon and a blood-soaked spear. It didn't take much for me to realise they were Pyramid Head's. I stood agape. I sent a girl who was barely armed with a pistol and probably three bullets into a room with _Pyramid Head_. I pretty much had committed murder once more.

There was a small chamber of revolver rounds laying on the table. I took them and continued searching. There was a chainsaw, very long and extremely rusty. I took mine off and inserted my hand into this one: it didn't start, and it was much too heavy. I pulled my hand out and found it orange with rust. I wiped it on my jeans, and took my good-old saw back.

I left the room, glad that Anna was gone but feeling guilty. Now I was alone in the dark once more, but I knew the darkness now. I started alone, I could end this alone. In the door at the end of the hall I knew I'd find locked. I used '**Ce–mo-y**' to open it. Inside there were braziers blazing with a crimson fire. It was cold. Lynx-devils flanked them in twosomes, and instantly were alerted to my presence. I pulled the revolver out and blasted their brain matter out. I then put it away; my ammo was scarce enough.

Upon the wall, covering a door, was a body with a slit in its chest. Written in blood upon his chest was: _When the sins I have committed pierce my soul, your Road shall become clear._ I didn't want to, but I slowly inserted the black-knife into the slit. The thing jolted to life, stared at me with lifeless white eyes, and opened its mouth in a silent scream. I fell back, mortified, and urinated as the thing let out a bloodcurdling scream. It was a deep wail, and as it did so the thing _melted_ into a detestable pile of matter.

I pressed on, an urgency within me that I cannot describe. I, despite any ill feelings, was searching for Anna, the other Anna, to apologise. Two Anna's I had wronged, and it was a hammer-blow to my heart. I continued through the door, coming to a small elevator. A note was upon the door: _The Elevator to Punishment, which leads to Void and opens to Chaos._

'Getting closer,' I mused, 'and it's only a matter of time.' I must admit, it is unsettling taking an elevator to 'Punishment', but I shrugged it off.

Anna Thurdon, my wife, was waiting.


	15. Chapter 15: Punishment

_Disclaimer: I do not 'own' the Silent Hill series, be it creatures, places, people, etc._

_Chapter 15: back to the good stuff! The violence, the solitude; what the story was originally about. I was on a brief hiatus from writing this to work on my novella on FictionPress (which I recently joined), and my newest work here on Fanfic, The Siege of Grandville (City of Villains) but have now returned from it (momentarily) to continue writing this. This is getting steadily harder, as I must balance chapters now if I'm to get twenty-five. It will probably take longer than I first expected, what with my new works. With that aside, off to Chapter 15!_

Chapter 15: Punishment

I rode the elevator down. Down, down, down; endlessly down. For hours it seemed to fall, and showed no sign of stopping. I heard the moaning sounds of the bestial creatures outside. I bowed my head and tried to think.

My chainsaw was beginning to labour me, as was the duffel bag. My gun was nearly dried, and my axe was the only thing I relied on now. I felt tired, as if my limbs were lead, and all I could do was rest. However, I did not just rest: I slept.

I awoke with the elevator doors open and no sound to be heard. My flashlight shot a dim ray that hit nothing. I stood and stepped forward. Before me was a _hole_, nothingness. My mouth dropped, and I slumped back. I desperately looked for a button to move the elevator up; nothing. I swallowed and paced the elevator. Doubting the whole logic, I jumped down.

I awoke face-down, sprawled out about a disgusting, flaky, rusty, atrocious floor. One sniff had me up on my legs, gagging. I stared at my shirt: utterly putrid. It was damp, rusty, bloody, torn, and above all, sweaty. I contemplated changing shirts a while ago, but it slipped my mind when I had the chance. My head began to hurt as I walked down the hall.

A Lynx-devil approached; I hacked its face brutally and knocked it down. I came to another door, wooden, average, but containing the same nothingness. I sighed and wiped my brow. Once more I had to pace around. At last, mayhap ten minutes, I leaped. The rush of air in my lungs was horrifying, and I blacked out again as I fell.

I awoke face-down on a matted floor. I stood, and looked around. It was a hallway. I turned around, and saw a wall; I proceeded the only way I could.

And walked into Pyramid Head.

I stood there shocked. I had killed them, killed them _all_. How was one alive? Not thinking, I dodged a spear and shoved him aside. I came at last to the Pit. I turned and saw Pyramid Head was caught up. As I dodged the spear I stepped too far, wavered for a moment, and fell into the chasm with relief.

I awoke face-up, laying on a grate. I heard moaning everywhere, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw was flesh. Flesh covered the walls, putrid and pink and–smelling horrible!

I stood, and saw once more that I was at a dead end, and the only way to go was the hallway. I bolted, chainsaw ready, but nothing attacked me. I saw once more a pit, but this one had colour. A red glow was emanating from its bottom, and a voice was emanating from its centre: I could hear naught that was said. I stared down and took a deep breath. I then jumped.

I awoke on my side, flashlight off and with moans off in the distance. I stood slowly, and there was no sentient light. I hit my flashlight switch; the light came on and revealed the monstrosity that sat before me.

It is nigh indescribable. God, how can one describe it!? I shall try: it had a head, a head as its base. A human sized head; and around it–nay, connected to it–were six identical grey bodies. The head was staring at me, and it opened its mouth, emitting a low moan.

Hesitantly I drew my revolver. I checked the chamber: six rounds. I took a breath and cocked the hammer. With a trigger pull the head exploded into fragments. But had I known what would happen when the head was gone, I'd have left it there. The bodies grew one long claw on their right arms. Headless they were, yet not deaf or blind. For as soon as I fired at one the others rushed me. I saved myself by rolling, and coming back up I blasted another one in the chest. The remaining four flanked me.

I shot my left-most flank and made a mad dash for the small door on one end of the large, grey, stone chamber.

Locked.

I shrugged, and turned to face the other three. My remaining two revolver bullets I expended nigh simultaneously. The last one raised his claw in defiance, and charged me. Knowing my gun empty, and my chainsaw off, I instinctively snatched my axe from my belt loop. He reared back and stabbed. I reared back and swung. His claw cut my right side, but I hit him harder: right where his head should be. Grey fluids leaked from the cracked skeleton, spilling upon the floor and my axe. Some got on my shoe, but I minded not. I fell as I felt the sting in my side.

_He got me good,_ I thought, _but I got him better._ I smiled grimly as I took a small metal object from his carcass.

A key.

I unlocked the door behind me and stepped in. . .

. . .right into another hole.

Cursing I fell, and when I awoke I was still cursing. 'When will this _stop_!' I screamed. I hadn't bothered to check and see where I was: I did now. I was back in the Café, only now it was the other world. I looked up. There was no hole in the ceiling; I couldn't have fallen through. Not wanting to think, I just stood and faced the front door.

I jogged in place for a moment and took my axe out. I jumped several times and shook, trying to prepare myself for the trial. After a deep breath and a cry, I burst through the door onto the street. Now, try and guess the _first_ thing I heard. Go on. Try. If you guessed 'wings', you're correct! They scared the hell out of me, and I found myself jogging with no thought of where I was going.

I saw mannequins and nurses but ran by: no fear was as great as the fear of the Angels. I was running as fast as my legs could take me when a cold voice rang out, echoing off non-existent walls:

'_**I see you**_!'

The Angel swooped. I dove and swung my body around, and as the Angel bore down on me I hacked it in the arm. It rested my weapon from me, but I thrashed like a wild animal. It relented, and I turned my chainsaw on and impaled the blade through the beast. As the chainsaw tore up its insides it screamed, and blood and guts were strewn about us. I was drenched in blood, and I shut my chainsaw off and pushed the beast away. I stood and ran the original direction I was going.

I believe that you may be able to guess what happened to me. I'll give you a guess: it has happened many times in this part of my tale. For those of you who guessed: 'Fell down a hole', you are correct. I was running with pure speed when there suddenly was no ground. I came to an end in the road, a yawning chasm which felt _much_ different than the other holes. There is a good side to this however, and it is such: just as I fell, I heard many wings rush and slam into the grate where I had been standing.

I was conscious the whole fall. Well, conscious is not a true definition: I was aware, and did not fall asleep, but all was black and lifeless. Then I landed. I landed hard on a seemingly weak metal, for I plundered straight through it and landed on dirt. The force was incredible, but I had no wound. I coughed madly, and looked around.

'What in the _h_—!?,' I said in a whisper; for what I was seeing was beyond my belief. The walls were stone, true stone, natural looking rock formations, and the light was tinted orange. Steam came up in bursts from holes about the area, and there were various metal pipes and pumps everywhere. I ran forward but found my body sluggish. I was exhausted, and I had to urinate. After finishing that business I continued: there were no doors, just heavy machinery and odd statues and cairns of twisted rock. I came then to the Orb.

It was an Orb in the centre of a large hole, and around it spun strange blades stained–no, soaked–with blood. As it spun, I was entranced, and longed to yield and jump into the blades, releasing myself from this torment. I began to think it had all been for naught, and I had fought all this way just to kill myself here. I suddenly broke the odd thoughts, and held my head. It hurt–bad. I heard then, in my state of confusion, and breath and a click. Instinctively I dove to the side; a loud bang ensued, followed by a section of rock–level with my head–being blasted. I turned to see my shape, my shadow, but no form, holding a real revolver. He laughed oddly, and lowered the gun to me.

I hacked the arm with my axe, and it fell off as Shadow-Marcus cried in pain. I hewed his back, and he made a gurgling noise. He came back and up with a pipe, nailing my shoulder and trailing up to my head. I cried out and held my head; the world began to spin. Dazed and desperate, I gripped Shadow-Marcus and threw him into the Orb. His parts were strewn about and the Orb broke. Down it fell, into a pool of blood, which drained, revealing another hole. As I said before, I was dazed, and I was staggering to and fro upon the brink. At last I fell forward, hit my head on the opposite side, felt my legs fall in, and soon my body followed. I saw no more.


	16. Chapter 16: 'You're the Last: Rage'

_This is really short, and somewhat odd, but I'm tired, and really wrote myself into a corner. I'm worming my way out of it, plus revealing some of (if not all) the ending. Two pages on WordPerfect; I thought Marcus should sleep at the end of at least one chapter, so here you go. Chapter 16:_

Chapter 16: 'You're the Last: Rage'

I woke up on my stomach and looked up. I saw large windmills everywhere, and darkness stretched eternally above me. I slowly stood, and looked around. All that I described is all that I saw. I took a breath and spun, looking anywhere for some clue where to go. I decided to just run forward I was careful not to fall off the grate-floor, which seemed quite sturdy.

I ran head on into a carousel. It was spinning, and as I stepped on it stopped. I fancied hearing a sound, so I stopped moving. And I heard it again: _gunshots_. I followed the noise, and readied my axe in case it was Shadow-Marcus or something.

But what I saw when I arrived I wasn't prepared for. It was Ray, double-barrel out, aiming at nothing. He seemed shaken. I approached him; he aimed at me and nearly pulled the trigger. He cried out and limped towards me: he was on the verge of tears.

'Marcus,' he pleaded, 'help me!' He collapsed before me.

'What's wrong?' I asked, 'Marcus? Where's Sahara? Why are you like this?'

'I don't know where it came from, but it just kicked my ass. Look at my leg!' It was all bloody, and disgusting. 'Marcus,' he said, 'run. Run, or we'll both die.'

'No,' I said, 'I won't leave you.'

In that moment I saw It: it was standing on two legs, with a head like the Red Thing, but it had two oversized claws. Upon sensing me it threw its head up and charged. Knowing Ray would die if it got near him, I swung my axe. The thing relented, and we stood there a moment, staring at each other. I felt Ray look up at me, but I said naught. Finally the thing broke its gaze, and shook its head as if insane. It then froze; I helped Ray up.

We limped a bit, and he told me that Sahara had died, and that he had been worsted by six Nurses. Then that thing showed up, and chased him all around. I told him of the dungeon, and the holes, and he nodded. But it was strange how the meeting was cut short: the whole world turned red, and we both sank beneath the grate. Slowly he faded away, and I from him, and I was floating. I closed my eyes once and found myself on stone, with a podium between my legs. As I stood up, I looked around. Nothing but the podium. Upon it was a two paged notebook, written on with strange handwriting:

_It is decreed that you must face the five cleansing processes: Fear, Darkness, Punishment, Will, and Atonement. Fear is used to punish, as well as the Darkness; but the doubt is the true Punishment. Will you need to go forward, and those with strong wills may even command the world momentarily to go whither they will. But_ _Atonement, the Final Sign, the Last of the Five Purifiers. Ye who shall bring about change, you must hurry._

The rest of the text said the same sentence over again: _You're the Last: Rage. You're the Last: Rage. You're the Last: Rage._

I shook my head and sat down. I swam around in my thoughts, dreaming while awake and thinking about Anna Thurdon, my young wife.

_You're the Last: Rage._

'Marcus.'

I grabbed my temple and felt it beating madly, and I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

_You're the Last: Rage._

'Marcus.'

I recognised my wife's voice. 'You're nearby,' I muttered. 'If only I could reach you. I need sleep, though, and a can of beer.'

_You're the Last._

'Marcus.'

_Rage._

'Marcus.'

_Rage._

_Rage._

_Rage._

_Rage._

_Rage._

I blacked out.


	17. Chapter 17: Despair

_Chapter 17: Hello! All other projects are on hiatus for me to focus and finish my first work. Writing put me in a frenzy: I've bitten off more than I can chew. But now, I'm going to wrap this up ere I do anything. Too early to be sure now, but I think once I'm done with this I'll work on __The Wall of the Dragon__ (FictionPress). In truth, I'm writing this as I finish chaper 18. . . so I have to get to work. Enjoy!_

Chapter 17: Despair

I woke up inside of the same room. I got up and tried the door; its knob turned, but didn't open.I nearly cried then, and slumped down. How long had I slept; I checked my watch, but I hadn't known the time before I slept, so I could never know.

Returned to the notebook and read it extensively. The '_Will_' part interested me the most. I realised that the only way I could leave this room was if I could somehow will myself elsewhere. I figured I had somehow willed myself to Raymond, so how hard could it be? I sat there and focused; but for two minutes naught happened. But, on the third minute, as if in challenge, I got a headache. I forced the headache away; it came stronger. I battled intensely with the strange will until I heard a scream and the world grew blurry.

Where I was going I didn't know; so I just willed myself to the church. Suddenly, as I sat there, I found myself on an altar. How, I didn't know, but I was there. And a voice behind me said:'Marcus!'

I turned to see Anna, glock in hand, weary and limping.

'What are you doing here?' I asked as I stood; I backed away for some reason.

'What are you backing away for?' she asked. 'I missed you so much. Where did you go?'

I hit a seat and stopped, but I held my axe arm in front of me. I sensed something was wrong, something was nearby. I sensed a familiar beast. Not the Red Thing, but. . .

'Where did you go?' I asked her, 'because I looked for you. You just disappeared.'

'I did not–,' she began, but there was an opening and closing as of a door, and I saw behind her Pyramid Head.

'Run!' I cried. I bolted for the front door. She ran after me too, but her leg seemed to pulse with pain and she fell down. Pyramid Head bore down. I whipped out my revolver and aimed, but it was too late. The spear came down and pierced her.

'No!' I screamed, and fell to my knees. And then, in the same moment, the chandelier lighting the room fell, crashed, and all went dark. I heard no more.

I awoke on the street. It was foggy, normal, and before me was a building: a butcher shop. I stood and walked in.

There was no ambient light, so I flicked my flashlight on. A straight-jacket stood before me. It sprayed, and I fell back. It ate my shirt open, and I charged the beast as my shirt disintergrated. I killed it with two strokes. I then ripped my shirt off, and threw it to the ground. I went outside and checked the map: a clothing stoor was across the street. I entered and picked out a green work shirt with pockets. I took my chainsaw off and put it in the duffel. I went to a convenience store and took some food and drink.

I then went to a hunting-goods store, and found it locked. I broke the window, and climbed in. Inside there were no monsters, but the store seemed raided. Damned Resistance, I bet, but I didn't ponder it. I found a few guns remaining, with plenty of ammo. I found ammunition for my revolver, and threw it in my duffel. I then took a one-shot hunting rifle, the only powerful weapon remaining in the store.

I found a plethora of ammunition, and, armed and dangerous, went forth into the butcher shop. I found the same beast that had attacked Ray waiting for me: I raised my rifle and pulled the trigger.

The recoil was tremendous, but the damage was worth it. It tore straight through the beast, and felled it instantly. I opened the door before me and found Anna again. Only Pyramid Head was already there. His spear was through her stomach, and she writhed in pain upon it.

'No!' I cried. 'Dammit!' I fell to my knees. I loaded a shell in my gun and shot at Pyramid Head; it tore through his helmet and drew a shriek. I pumped another shell in the gun and all went dark.

I awoke outdoors again, only now before a house in the middle of the wilderness. I looked up; there were Angels circling the house. They swooped. Not for me, though, oh no. Anna was inside. They were going for her again.

I stood and bolted for the house. I burst in the door, and ran into the various rooms; no Anna. I ran for the staircase, with speed like a madman. As I came to the top I saw Pyramid Head rearing back.

'No!' I screamed, 'leave her alone!' and I fired once. It tore the helmet open and knocked Pyramid Head back once more. I loaded it again. I fired. Pyramid Head let out a wail, and disintegrated into a pile of putrid, clear gel. There were shrieks, and before Anna could speak, I tackled her. Angels dove through the windows, right over us, crashing into the wall and dying. About six I counted. We sat there for a moment, when I suddenly backed off. I realised what was happening. Anna had just died twice, and I was here, having saved her.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I just sat there frozen, mouth open, ready to speak. At last I said 'Are you okay?' She laughed, and it was not her voice. She burst asunder with wings and claws, in the image of the Red Angel. I heard running, but I ignored it. I stepped back as the Angel hovered and let out a wail.

_Thank you for saving me,_ it said,_ I shouldn't have enjoyed being eaten alive by such __**beasts**_ It came closer. At that moment buckshot sprayed about it, and it flew back and into the wall. Ray was on the stairs, gun smoking.

'Come on!' he said, 'run!' I stood and bolted with him. I reloaded my gun and asked:

'How did you know where I was?'

'Not now,' he said, panting as he ran. 'When we're somewhere safer.'

We ran out of the forest and came to a small house. We opened the door and closed it, locked it, and put our backs to it, breathing heavy. I then began to laugh. He did too. We slid onto our bottoms and sat there, panting.

'It's safe,' I said.

'Okay,' he said, 'but after this I want a detail of your trip through Hell:

'Sahara and I were at the Amusement Park, checking stuff out, when suddenly she disappeared. I looked all over, but found her nowhere. I found this hole, and jumped through. It led to this weird place, a long hallway, with a hole at the end. I found Pyramid Head, and was scared as hell. So I jumped in again. So this went on a while, until I found myself on the street. I ran a while, but fell off the edge of the town. So I came at last to this weird Ball, and after a fight with some "thing", I descended into a hole.

'And found myself where you showed up. That thing nigh took my leg off, but I warded it off with a shotgun blast. I felt myself pass out, and woke up with some book in front of me. It said stuff about Punishment, Will, Rage; kept talking about Rage.'

I flashed back to the Knife Puzzle with the cemetary: '_Rage–Marcus Thurdon_.' I said nothing to Ray, but I seriously fell into despair from that thought. I tried not to think, so I listened very attentively to Ray:

'Then I "willed" myself out of there, and found myself in the basement of the Lucky-Star. How? I don't know, but there I found Sahara, and I saw her get attacked. On the second time, though, I got her and figured it out. So, I fixed her with one round.

'Then I willed myself to you, "Marcus", because I had no idea what to do. I saw all those Angels, and I saw you two get attacked. I barely got up in time, but I thankfully did. So, what now? What about you?'

'I'm lost.' It was all I could say. 'Everything is so hard now,' I said, 'I don't know where I am or where I'm going. I need a damn beer.'

'Amen to that, brother.' I pulled out a drink from the bag, and consumed it all in massive gulps. I then recounted all that had happened to me. He listened attentively, and when at last I finished he nodded.

'We've got to decide,' he said. 'What do we do?'

'We can end this,' I said. 'But how, I don't know. The passage is open, I fear, but it is hidden, and well I deem. Any ideas?'

'The Church,' Ray said. 'Will yourself to the Church.' I focused really hard then, and felt that familiar feeling. All faded, and I found myself in a room with chains adorning the wall. I slung my rifle around my shoulder and took out my axe and revolver. Fully loaded, I proceeded.

There was a hall before me, and I spied the demon that attacked Ray (here on end called 'Tube-heads') and a Lynx-devil. Two shots I fired, but the Tube-head was resilient. Another shot, though, and he went down. I went forward once more.

The hall seemed endless, and after several nurses and several Lynx-devils I came to a single door: never had I felt so much concentrated darkness coming from anything, not even Pyramid Head, or the Angels. I read, on a plaque: _Centre of Chaos_. I smiled grimly and opened the door. Sure enough, as I stepped through I fell into a hole.

I awoke on grating, and cursed, getting annoyed at all this delaying. As I stood I heard 'Marcus!' Ray jogged up to me.

'You made it!' he said.

'Yeah,' I replied, looking around; and there, by my side, was. . .

. . .the Church.


	18. Chapter 18: Abysmal Stair

_Chapter 18: we're back with more The Red Angel. Drawing closer to the climax. I finally got the (currently) new Rush album: Snakes & Arrows; it's awesome! Well, like every Rush album (even 2112) it's great inspiration to me (although the first half was written without it), and it relaxes me. Lyrically I am in love with it. I recommend it if you're a Rush fan; but I digress. On! to the story:_

Chapter 18: Abysmal Stairs

The doors creaked slightly as we opened them: the Church, the Church, the Church at last! Nothing was sacred here, I deemed, but a Church would offer some comfort.

But this was, in no way at all, a normal Church. The whole of the area was red, with a large (demonic?) symbol upon the walls. Two Lynx-devils flanked the altar. In their hands were maces, only now the devils seemed taller. I aimed and blew one's head off, and the other's, but then there was a creaking and slam. One of the doors had opened, and there was a new horror.

Robed in jet black came monks, priests, whatever, with torn robes and bloody skin. Their eyes held no life, just cold, black emptiness. In their hands were mauls, spiked and with rust chains. The worst part was they were fast, and could communicate somehow. Unlike the other beasts here, they seemed to be able to reason. But it was their facial features that truly mortified me.

When I was younger, a priest at my church went mad. He came back from a trip to Silent Hill; he took a revolver and shot down all those he disliked, and, with a chainsaw, brutally killed eight children. His eyes were _cold, black and empty_, and when at last his dark deed was done, he wrote a note: '_I am free, free from the bonds of the mortal coil. The Order is taught me the Truth; now it's time to end this religious charade! Through the Ceremony of Bond, I have immortalised myself and become One with Her! Ha! Ha! Ha!_' And when he was finished he took a sharpened, wooden crucifix and slit his wrists, Achilles tendon, and his Jugular vein. At last he, weakly and with much labour, climbed upon an altar, flaming, and pierced his chest, with a final wail of 'Paradise!' I had a front row ticket to that. And that was the last day I ever attended a church. The memory plagued me. Hell; it still does.

That priest was wielding a maul right before me; two, in fact. One rifle shot took a priest down, but the other closed in fast. I barely got my axe out in time and ducked the vicious ball. I hewed his neck, and he fell as a man would. I hewed his brain, and he fell dead. Ray took a look around and asked 'What is this place?'

I didn't answer, and he didn't sound like he was expecting me to. I slung my rifle back over my shoulder and took out my revolver. I proceeded to the altar and examined it. There was a torn up bible on the table, but this seemed not the Holy Bible. It was thinner, but the font was smaller, and many pages were stained with blood.

Beside it sat papers, all sorts of papers: mostly essays, piled up originally neatly. I began to sift through them. I then found that these were famous essays, and one of them in particular I knew. For it was written by me:

_What is anger? What is rage? Anger's definition in the dictionary_: _a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility. Anger be not an emotion one whit, but a state of mind. Anger consumes, and when it has bred over all the body then it transforms, and becomes _Rage_. Rage is defined as:_ _violent uncontrollable anger. Hark! Now you think me psychotic; it is not so. I am sane, perhaps more sane than you?_

_How can I prove my statements? I cannot. What right have I to declare these things? My right as a human, my right as a philosopher, and my right as a victim and carrier of Rage. For it is Rage, Rage and Fear, which drives Man to commit his most atrocious acts. Murder; genocide; treason; bodily injury; even arson. For have I not been victim and suspect to Rage? Many violent acts have I committed, and I will not say I am innocent. For Rage, in its eagerness to fester and breed, infects all eventually._

_Even the most mild-tempered person will find a spark of anger ignited in their lifetime; and, never having released anger, they have no way to dispel it. Thus we get Rage, albeit slowly. Even the most pacific person, the most holy man, may find what he loves destroyed, and his life in ruin. And there, deep down, ignites the spark._

_The Child of Rage, crime, is not below all. For, in a Rage, the mind will stoop to unbelievable lows to achieve its end. Underestimate Rage not one whit; for, in your eagerness to defy it, you will fall host to it. -Marcus Thurdon._

I laughed. This town was sick. I put the paper on the altar and made for the confession booth. I tried the priest's side; the lock was broken. I entered the other side. Inside was a small notebook:

_So I've come this far, but to no avail. I spent my last round on that hangman thing. I think, though not sure, that this town's creatures are dependant on your memories. Those which terrify you will be given form. But your desire will also be granted, albeit in a twisted form. You will be robbed of your desire, and through this, you will learn the truth. I'm terrified, but I need to progress. All I have is this mace, all I have is this small mace. If anyone ever reads this, please know I tried. – Glen Artine_

I shook my head and closed the book; the rest was covered in blood. How many people? How many had fallen to the town's wickedness? How many had came out alive?

Ray was gone. I heard him open a door, and I turned back to see him gone. I gripped my rifle tighter, and proceeded. In the other room, there was another monk that flanked me: I turned and shot him, and loaded another round quickly. I blasted the other one; his skull was shattered, and his brain matter flew behind him. I loaded another shell and took the box out of my bag: I took ten and put them (five each) into my shirt pockets. I still had _many_ shells left.

Further down I heard gunshots. I ran (for I was in a hallway) to a side door. Another gunshot rang out, and a flash came from under the door. I swung it open, and there was Ray. He snapped his double-barrel down and loaded two shells inside. He closed it and fired again. But at what? It was a giant snake, hissing as the shrapnel hit its scales and were deflected. I raised my rifle and fired. It tore through the scale and drilled through the snake. It slithered away through a hole in the wall.

Ray slumped down and rolled up his pant leg: a small scar was there. 'Snake bite,' he said grimly. I sighed and held out my hand. He grabbed it and we went on. Through miscellaneous encounters we traveled and I payed little attention. All I know is that we came before a door that had a plaque:

_Beyond this door is the Abyss. All who enter may not return._

I opened the knob and what I saw took my breath away. A stone stairway, leading down through pitch blackness, save for miscellaneous objects, stretched out before me. To the sides were strange things: doors, cages, hooks, corpses. I went first; Ray second. We went slowly ere we came to a door. It was an impossible door. It could _not_ exist. On one side it was pure void, naught but blackness. I felt it, around it, knocked on the other side. When I opened it and stepped through, beside it was thick stone. This confused me more than anything in the town so far.

When Ray at last got through, we walked from the door; but as we did, flames consumed it, and into ash it crumbled. Where it had stood, there was a wall, just like the rest of the room's.


	19. Chapter 19: The Trial By Blood

_Chapter 19: well, here we are. Chapter 19. I, in truth, never thought it'd get this far. Seriously, I'm (often) a pessimist about my writing, and I dislike letting friends read _anything_ that I write. So naturally I thought it'd suck since I never got opinions or anything; but it got this far, and that's a good thing! I've realised that I've really blown Marcus up as a hero; in this Chapter, I plan on making him do something wrong. I'm going back to my Poe roots. Chapter 19:_

Chapter 19: The Trial of Blood

I was lost. Ray was gone. The World was against me. Ray and I had been walking through the rooms of this weird place, when he just up and disappeared! Where he went, I don't know. But I know that the place was, after Ray's disappearance, _infested _with monsters. Most of them Lynx-devils.

Of my journey through those halls I will not recount all of; for the horror was too extreme for me to recall. So dark, so lonely, and the noises – oh the noises! – were so dreadful. The scent of the place was nasty, yet it had some _grotesque attraction_, a lustre of its own. The halls were wide, and my worst experience was in a long, narrow one.

I was running as fast as I could to escape God-knows-what, when I barreled into a Lynx-devil. It stayed up – and I did not. It raised its pipe and smote my back. I cried in pain, and it did it once more. I struggled to get my axe.

It hit again.

I gripped my axe and struggled to sit up.

It hit my leg.

I screamed, and came up furiously with the axe into the abomination's testicles: it yelled, and I grabbed my revolver. Into its stomach I pressed the barrel, and five times I pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed all over my face. The bullets tore through the ghastly stomach, and the thing fell back.

_But was not dead_.

I stood and kicked the bastard; it coughed up blood, and I hewed its throat. It died with a groan. I fell back to the wall and nursed my anger and wounds. I took a Dr. Pepper from the bag, and consumed it in a massive gulp. The next thing I did was vulgar, but I had to urinate – so I did so upon the corpse. I cursed it and made fun of it all the while, aiming for its open mouth. It filled with the yellow fluid quickly, and when I was finished I spit upon it.

That was a strange tale, yes, but it is the only story with humour in it: for the others are so dark in my mind that I cannot recall them on paper. So many injuries I took in that place – but the worst came at the end. The end of this whole tale I accumulated the worst injury of all, but my next one is indeed dark.

At the end of a hall I at last found an engraving upon a red door:

_The punishers are punished,_

_And the accused may escape,_

_Be it theivery or murder;_

_Arson or rape._

_Naught can stop it,_

_No chair, shot, or cell._

_But leave justice to us:_

_The Helmets of Hell._

_Of us three there be,_

_Mortal yet not,_

_Immune to flames,_

_Explosions or shot._

_The End is near;_

_Choose wisely my friend,_

_As once is the only;_

_You can't choose again._

_To enter or exit;_

'_Justice' or dread?_

_Not far you will face,_

_He Who Is Red._

_So come forth, mortal,_

_The Judges await,_

_A trial by blood,_

_Shall decideth your fate. _

'So be it,' I said. I wished Ray was still with me, but it couldn't be helped. I grabbed my rifle and proceeded onward.

Inside was a rectangular room, very wide but not long. I stepped forward: the floors were metal, as were the walls; but in the centre there was a strange symbol upon a carpet. I stepped upon it, and looked up. There, sat a tall woman, clad in a black skirt and a red blouse, and with blonde hair. She said 'Marcus,' and it echoed through the whole room.

'Anna!' I yelled! And then the Punishers approached her, spears in hand. Three there were, erect, tall, and grim. They raised their spears.

'No!' I screamed, 'leave her alone! Don't touch her! _No_!' But my screaming would avail me not; for Pyramid Heads were ruthless. I raised my rifle and fired at the one closest to her; but it was for naught. Another one brought his spear through her beautiful frame, skewering her and staining her front with blood. Tears welled in my eyes. I fell to my knees. I put my head in my hands and my elbows on the ground, and wept. I felt rage crawling in; and then I knew. It was punishment. My punishment would never be done until I put aside my rage. I stopped weeping, and rose. The Pyramid Heads were surrounding me.

'I was weak of mind,' I said to anyone who was listening, 'and needed rage to drive me to fight. I had a temper, and took out anger on those undeserving.

'But that was then,' I said as I lifted my rifle; a fire was in my heart, the fires of _passion_, of _love_, and not _anger_ or _hate_. 'And this is now. I understand it all know; it ends here.' I looked around in awe: all the Pyramid Heads backed away. I lifted the gun and inserted a shell. They closed in. I fired; it tore through one's helmet and it stumbled back. One's spear dove close, but I rolled out of the way. Rising I reloaded, and shot the one I had already wounded. It stood erect and lifted its head; it then brought its throat down upon the spear, and moved no more.

I hadn't time to comtemplate things, for the others bore down upon me. Quickly I broke for the other side of the room, reloading and firing at the left-most Pyramid Head. It screamed, but kept coming. I inserted another shell and fired. It kept coming. I threw the rifle down and brandished my axe. The Pyramid Heads were flanking me, but their form had massive disadvantages: the centre was wide open! They were isolated, and one was vulnerable. I charged the left-most one and heaved its helmet off as it went down. It was faceless, with a fleshy face and tattoos upon its arms. I brought my axe down upon its face, and it stood, throwing me back towards the rifle.

And the duffel.

I opened it up and brought out my only hope: for I was stumbling, weary, and riddled with wounds. I brought out the chainsaw once more, and inserted my hand. Fastening the latch and lifting it several times, I turned to see the left Pyramid Head killing itself much like the first, and the right one upon me. I rolled forward and dodged the spear, and turned my chainsaw on. I sawed the last one's legs off, and it fell to the ground, writhing. Screams unearthly escaped from its hood, and it motioned for the spear. I, understanding that it acknowledged my winning, raised its spear.

_The punishers are punished_.

I brought it down into the creature's throat. It gurgled, and I fell down from my exhaustion. I begged mentally to sleep in peace, and I did. I slept without horrible dreams, without seeing any monsters. I dreamt of Anna, of our times together, and I longed to see her again. Fueled by an inner fire, I woke up and grabbed my things.

I proceeded through the enormous double doors opposite the entrance.


	20. Chapter 20: The Onslaught

_Chapter 20: I have nothing to say, really. This is chapter 20, and it is the twentieth chapter. I've written a rough draft on the back of a colouring sheet, but my pencil (I hate pencils – I lost my pen) was running low on lead (it was only about three inches long the pencil), and I never finished it. I got two sentences into it._ _I think chapter 19 was the best work I've done since Chapter 15: Punishment. I doubt I can do so good twice in a row, but we'll see. This chapter is all Marcus, and with a _lot_ of action. I give you – Chapter 20:_

Chapter 20: The Onslaught

Fog greeted me as I opened the doors and stepped through. It was cold – deathly cold – and I felt my very blood chilled. Even in this thick shirt I was cold, but I decided that I'd have to ignore it. I'd gotten this far through it – but was it really the same temperature? It never seemed so cold as this. It was freezing.

I was outside, just outside of a small church that wasn't even on the map. I turned to see it was shorter than every other building. Strange, because I'd entered through the church in Palevale, and now I was somewhere in South Vale.

I sat down and thought. I had to think, because I'd taken little time to do so lately. Anna was gone; Ray was gone; the Resistance. . .

. . .was my only hope. I then looked down at my wounds. My leg was bruised severely. My arm was bloodied, and my shoulder bruised. I had a black eye from my journey through the Abysmal Stair. My hair was unkemp, bloody, greasy, and, above any injury I'd taken, I was exhausted. I wanted only somewhere to rest.

I checked my watch: only an hour ere the sun set. I'd have to get in some building and hold fast. Then, the next day, I'd seek the Resistance. But where to hold out? Somewhere that wasn't too obvious, and somewhere relatively safe. As I stood I then realised that the whole town had changed. The buildings were cluttered together – nay, _combined_ – and the ground more slanted.

I decided on a holdfast: the Lucky-Star café. I entered, and found, as Ray had once told me, the shelves restocked. I didn't question aught of it; I grabbed a bite to eat and waited.

The Siren sounded; all went dark, and came on again. The café was exactly as it was last time I was in this situation. I laughed at the irony of that thought – but now I wielded a chainsaw, an axe, and a rifle. The revolver was restless in my hand.

I sat upon the stool, and just sat there, heeding all that I heard or saw. I shut my flashlight off, and tried to sleep. Sleep gently overcame me – for a few moments. Necessity and survival kept me awake, and it was also what reminded me of how amateur I was in the beginning. As I reminisced, I fancied a sound. A sound I was too familiar with, and a sound that made me shake with primal fear and forced my heart beat to increase, feeding my instincts and fury. I stood and grabbed my things, diving behind the counter. The sound got closer.

Wings.

I sat behind the counter, not moving or breathing – but the wings did naught. There was no crashing to be heard. In fact, there was nothing more. I cocked the hammer, and waited. There came the simultaneous moans, the moans of the monsters from my psyche. The priest; the tube-head; and some others that I didn't recognise.

The windows rattled; the door shook – I sat there alone, realising this was the end. I checked my chamber: bone dry. I sighed and inserted six rounds – but a grim mood took me. I put the revolver to my head. I breathed deep as I heard the window break. Corpses hit the floor as the things rushed inside. My finger caressed the trigger, longing and dreading to pull it. One pull and all darkness would lift, and I'd be covered in flames. I was not only a murderer now, but with a suicide, no way would I see the heavenly gates.

Sobbing, I tore the gun away from my head and sat there, listening yet not. How I longed to meet my wife – how I longed to see her once more – how I longed to apologise.

_Would she accept it?_

I listened as the moaning continued, magnifying and surrounding me. Under the counter I felt no safer than above it, but I could not will myself to move. I couldn't fight back.

_I give up_.

I gave up. I would never make it. Even if I did fight, I couldn't beat so many foes. Yet then something kindled inside me. Defiance? Maybe. I cannot explain what forced me to do what I did, but I did it anyways.

With a primal, savage cry I rolled out and stood. I aimed my gun and blasted the priests. The tube-heads rushed me; I hacked their heads off with my axe (I put the chainsaw in the duffel when I was on the stool) and retreated a little. Putting the revolver in the bag, I came up with the rifle, and ten shells in my pockets. I fired once; I hit a straight-jacket. I shot another, and another ere I turned to the nurses. I shot all four of them down, and turned to the mannequins. I fired and killed four ere I ran out – not wanting to grab more shells – and was forced to get the chainsaw.

I put the tool on my arm and revved it. Screaming I dashed in like a madman, and slaughtered aught I saw. A nurse nailed me hard in the back, but I turned and hewed her brain. A lynx-devil latched onto me with its teeth, and I screamed in agony. I reared backwards and over the counter. They flooded through.

I screamed a curse and grabbed my bag; taking out my revolver I loaded it and blasted away at everything. Nothing escaped my onset, save those alive after I ran out. I pumped a shell into my rifle, and aimed: as I fired, Angels barreled in. The shell tore viciously through the monsters, and hit an Angel in the back of the neck; it spiraled out of control, and fell with a shriek.

The others screamed and came at me – I screamed, and pumped another shell in. I blasted one from the air, and pumped another shell in. One was upon me, but I shot another with my loaded round (as well as the other monsters: they had been in near single-file line). The Angel took me down, and shrieked. I lifted my axe and hewed its cranium: blood, waves, torrents of blood gushed upon my face. I screamed and thrashed, throwing the dying Angel off as I frantically grabbed a napkin. Wiping the blood off, I saw the corpses of dozens of beasts.

I took a breather, and then felt the many wounds I had sustained: fang, pipe, spray, and claw. I was adorned with injury, and checked my watch. In ten hours the sun would rise. I opened the storage room, and sat down. Sleep washed over me, and when I woke up, the dawn had come.

I stumbled out of the café and onto the street. Looking at my wounds, I limped onto the street. I was frightened as I heard gunfire, but I soon realised that gunfire (more often than not) meant people. I broke into as fast a run as a wounded leg will offer, and found just what I'd been looking for.

The Resistance, guns smoking, with approximately twenty people, standing before me.


	21. Chapter 21: Actus reus

_This is Chapter 21 of the Red Angel. It is the twentieth of twenty-five chapters, so the story is almost over. In truth I'm going to miss adding to this, but it'll be nice to move on. But, I promise, I'll be back and do something with Silent Hill once I've got more work done. I'm thinking about rewriting 'Damage' and submitting it to FictionPress, plus I'm going to finish up _The Wall of the Dragon The Siege of Grandville_, or (maybe, this is just a fancy of the mind) a sequel – in novel form – to 'The Legend of Tingle'._ _I'll think about it, but _The Wall of the Dragon_ is next, due to the fact I'm (still) almost done with _The Flaming Hall_. Anyways, Chapter 21:_

Chapter 21: _Actus reus_

The Resistance eyed me with curiosity; was this a different division? They seemed more hardened, and their guns were in better quality. There, understandably, were no uniforms, but they all seemed similiar in a way I couldn't – and still can't – figure out.

I was gaunt. I was tired, hungry, but most of all, injured to the extreme. Their eyes wandered to my leg: the pants were torn completely open from straight-jacket acid, and the lynx-devil in the Abysmal Stairs had bruised it to the extreme; it may have fractured my tibula, and my once-handsome shirt was stained – nay – drenched with blood, and covered in claw marks. My right (and left, to a degree) were riddled with claw and pipe marks. I was severely, brutally, mercilessly beaten, but I hadn't given up; I was close.

'Dear God,' one man exclaimed, 'who are you?' I smiled grimly, and limped towards the group.

'My name's Marcus. Marcus Thurdon. And you all. . . are you the Resistance?'

'We were in charge of the fort at Alchemilla,' a large, brute of a man said as he walked forward. 'We were besieged, but we broke it. And now – now we are responding to the Call.'

'Call?' I asked.

'The Call to Arms,' the man said, with a dark expression. 'The Resistance is acting. We're waging all-out war on the Red Angel.'

'Did you see a – man, tall, blonde haired, and with a double-barrel and emergency hammer?'

'Yeah,' he said, 'he's at the Fort.'

'Where's the Fort?'

'We're camped out near the Historical Society. You see, there's something wrong with the lake.'

'What?'

'It solidified. It's cement. Our scouts have noticed a large structure in the centre of the lake. It's the Red Angel's Fortress. We've raided every store, every house, every building, for clubs, spears, guns; anything we can use. We're not kidding.'

'How many soldiers do you have?'

'We've pulled one-hundred and ten men, all being "punished". The Red Angel won't be able to withstand us. You see, John, the leader of the Resistance, knows everything about this town. And now he's told us that the town has a limited supply of servants. These things must be breeded, and that takes a few days. We're striking in two days, once we pull the rest of our men from the various forts.'

'Well, you got one more man,' I said. 'I have a score to settle with the Red Angel.

'By the way,' I added. 'Are any of those. . . Pyramid Head things there?'

'No,' the man said, 'all three of them that we've noticed disappeared. I feel sorry for the lucky bastard who they killed. Never stood a chance.'

'I didn't?' I said. He looked at me with wonder, but quickly resumed his dark expression.

'Look, we've got to get out of here. The Fort's not too close, but it's not too far. Think you can make it on that leg?'

'I've had worse – I think.'

The next hour or so was fuzzy. I've no memory, save snatches, but I remember there not being _one_ monster on the streets. Made me wonder if I'd killed them all. In truth there hadn't been over forty in my café incident, but my mind blew it out of proportion. We came to the Fort at six o'clock. It was just a ring of cars and barricades set about about two-hundred tents. Every car in town was there.

'Man,' I said, 'how did you get so many supplies?'

'We've been preparing for this ever since the Resistance started. "One day," John said, "Silent Hill will be unable to sustain itself. The Old Gods, though powerful, will lose their strength, and the Punishers shall be Punished." That's all he said of the matter. We've hoarded tents and food. Our guns are stocked up in the hundreds, and ammunition is far from rare. We're ready. Even with so few men, we're ready.'

'I hope so.'

I was ushered into a tent with several gurneys lined on one side, and both men and women were tending injured soldiers. I was brought to one gurney, and lain down. The man told me to wait. He walked away.

I lay there, looking up in the roof of the tent, wondering how it came to this. My duffel I sat upon the floor, and I stretched out. My body was sore, and for the first time in a long time, I slept in peace.

But it did not last. The Siren woke me and all the other patients up, but we were calmed by the others. Nothing else changed aside from the light. We were protected.

The next day a woman came in and tended my shoulder. It was bruised, and I'd been stabbed by Pyramid Head (indeed I've just now remembered it; it is not a fond memory, as the wound was cold all the time, and I shudder at the very memory). She put some ointment on it, inside it, and around it.

This roused me from my delirium, and I greeted her with a 'Hey.'

'Hello,' she said gently; she was young, fair, and her touch was soft. I would have fallen asleep had she not been tending wounds, and the pain hadn't been excruciating. I closed my eyes as she examined my face. One eye was blackened and swollen, and one was fine. My lip was cut, and my chin too. I was filthy, and with dried blood upon me.

'Well,' she said as she dabbed my face with a wet cloth, 'you've been through much.'

I laughed grimly, and said 'Yeah, too much for my liking.'

'What on Earth did you fight? You've got so many wounds on you!'

She took what was left of my shirt off, and examined the rest of my torso. My back was banged up bad, and I'd got hit in the groin once. I was sure I had a bruised testicle, but I didn't want her to examine it.

'Have you been hit any in the genitals?'

'No,' I said quietly. She read my like a book. After tending my many bruises, she gently began to remove the scraps of pants I'd once wore.

'Okay, okay,' I said, turning away, 'it's not that bad.'

'It can get bad,' she said, pulling my pants all the way off, 'if left untreated.'

I closed my eyes and drifted far away when my underwear was pulled down and my testicles lathered in a stinging ointment. The woman said 'Oh,' as in 'Dear God, what is that?'. I opened my eyes and looked down: my right testicle was dark and swollen.

'Is nothing safe from them!' I cried as the ointment soaked in and stung. The woman put my pants back on, and then she saw my leg. She gasped, and slowly looked at it. Lathered in blood, riddled with cuts, and swollen with bruising, my right leg looked disgusting, and hurt more than my bruised testicle.

She slowly took out some cream; she applied some to a towel, and gently – oh, so gently – cleaned the blood and grime off it. I dearly appreciated her gentleness, but I writhed in pain, moaning, for the wounds were wide open, my nerves exposed, and I drew heavy gasps of air. She looked at me with nothing short of pity, but also with some respect. I'd respect someone who had these injuries and didn't complain.

Then she applied the medicine: antibiotics, and it burned severely. It reminded me of the old ways of treatment: amputation. I wished she'd take the leg rather than treat it like this. But then she stopped, and she asked me to sit up. I did, and the pain melted away, subsiding into minor stings. She gave me an energy drink, and then a pill. I gladly took them, knowing them to be painkillers. She smiled, and walked away. At the gurney next to me she stopped.

'My name's Megan,' she said.

'I'm Marcus,' I replied, and laid down. Upon stretching out, all things went dark, and I fell soundly asleep.

I'd been healed of every wound on my body, but my dreams could not be healed. I dreamt of Anna still, and I could not be rid of them. Over and over again I killed her; over and over again I witnessed my fury. Hark now! For here follows my atrocious act.

It was dark. Anna was standing there, fiery, and shooting off insults like a gatling gun. I stood against the dresser, erect and with a fire burning in my head. Oh, if only I could get rid of this. . . burden! She held me back! My mind told me over and over again that she was the reason I was an unsuccessful writer. Her jealousy!

'Tell me if you're cheating!' she screamed. I looked up coldly, my face nothing short of hateful.

'No.'

'_Liar_!'

I face twisted in rage. Screaming I grabbed the letter-opener off the dresser and charged across the room, impaling her bosom with the letter-opener's cold point. She drew a quick gasp of breath, and choked. I was breathing heavy, my eyes seething with fury and heart pounding furiously. Anna's eyes lost their fire. She clutched her bloodied robe, and her eyes closed slowly, yet snapped open, fighting for consciousness.

I then, as if a veil had been lifted over my eyesight, saw my beautiful wife standing there with a knife in her chest, breathing in vain. I had pierced a lung.

I stepped back, shaking, not believing what I had done. She fell.

I ran and caught her. She coughed, and gasped. I cried, looking at the wound with no idea how to fix it. She stopped breathing; her eyes closed. I sat there, with her in my arms, on my knees, ere I put her down. I raised my arms and yelled a primal, cleansing yell. I bowed my head.

Hours later I stood, lifting Anna. I carried her to the cellar. There I busted down the brick wall, and hid her body. I sealed it back up, and spoke of her not once the following two days.

The third day her brother showed up.

'Hey Marcus,' he said. 'Where's Anna? I have to talk with her.'

'I haven't seen her in three days,' I said, 'do you know where she could be?'

He didn't respond; he forced his way inside, and checked the house. I shook with fear, but not visibly: I would not give myself away. At last we came to the cellar, and my deed was revealed. I'd missed some spilled blood.

'You son of a bitch!' he cried, and he came fiercely at me with his hands bound for my throat. I ducked, and headbutted him in the gut. I then lifted him over me, and threw him on his back. He came up with a slab of concrete, and chucked it at me. It hit me in the cheek, and I hit the wall. I grabbed a spade, and he did, and we came at each other, halting just before we met.

'You think it's okay to kill people?' he said.

'I didn't mean to kill her!' I cried. 'It was an accident!'

'An _accident_! That'll get you out of spilling a drink on someone, but not with murder!'

'Don't make me kill you,' I pleaded. He snarled and stabbed at me. I dodged and smacked him in the face with the spade. He reared back, and I dropped the spade. I spied a broken pipe, and I lifted it. Screaming like a madman I cracked his skull open. He bled upon the stone floor, and I repeatedly cracked his cranium.

'I'm so sorry,' I whispered as I saw him die. I dropped the pipe, and ran up to my car. Throwing on my jacket and just wanting to leave, I started the car and made for Silent Hill. . .

I then awoke upon my gurney, and layed back. Looking up I whispered 'I am sorry.' Megan came in the next morning, and checked my wounds.

'Looks like you're getting better!' she exclaimed, with the vibrance young people have. I smiled, but all I could think about was Anna. I then wept, and when Megan tried to comfort me, I turned away.

'What's the matter?'

I didn't answer. I stood, and left the tent. I saw, outside, men and women with rifles and handguns, pipes and planks, chainsaws and drills, hammers and axes, ready for total-war.


	22. Chapter 22: Breakdown

_Chapter 22: We're back with more Red Angel. Pretty much more talking, but a creepy character and plot are involved. I'd like to welcome Randell-Flagg 89 to FanFic, who I am friends with outside of this website. I think it was Randell. . . oh well, I know the pronunciation, so that counts; but I digress. I'm excited to be nearly done with this story; so without further adieu_ _I present you Chapter 22:_

Chapter 22: Breakdown

I was roused the next day from a deep sleep, snatches of my time in Silent Hill flashing before my eyes. Megan stood before me, and she said 'John wants to see you.'

'Who?' I asked, in my sluggish tone.

'The Leader of the Resistance,' she said. 'We call him John, but noone really knows his name.'

I didn't react well to that mentally, but physically I stood and followed her. We passed many tents, containing men equipped for a riot, not warfare. These men were more-often-than-not young, but there were some surly, muscular types. The biggest weapon I spied was a large, two-handed axe for cutting wood. There were guns in the plenty: rifles, shotguns, pistols, machine and sub-machine guns, and magnum revolvers.

We came to a large tent, with carpeting and a bed. There was a desk in the centre, and a balding old man sat in a large chair behind it. In his mouth was a pipe, and he blew pipe smoke through the whole of the tent. I rejoiced in the smell of tobacco; but where it came from, I knew not.

'Sit down,' he bade, not even looking: his eyes were closed. I swallowed and sat down on a chair before the table. It was comfortable too. I pulled at my collar, and adjusted.

'Do not be unsettled by my queer habits,' he said, eyes still closed. 'I am the one they call John. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.'

'Ditto,' I said past the lump in my throat.

He laughed, and opened his eyes. They were blood red, but natural, the iris coloured red and his right eye covered in a film which tainted the natural lustre – indeed, his eyes glowed with in their own light, but this was different than Anna's. His was a soft glow of healing. Hers was a glow of menace.

I was frightened, but staring into the bulbs made me relaxed. I inhaled a non-existent yet refreshing vapour, and settled into the seat. John smiled and proceeded.

'Marcus Thurdon – your reputation is great.'

'What?' I asked, bewildered. 'I – what are you talking about? How does the Resistance know about me?'

'I didn't say the Resistance,' he said, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

'The town?' I asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm, but he just stared at me.

'This town is sentient,' he said at last. 'The Old Gods – one can speak with them, if they know how.'

'Are you a member of that Cult?' I asked angrily.

'Not anymore. My name is Richard Wintrop.'

'Sounds familiar. . .'

'I work to regain the chrism, the goblet, and the two books that shall renew my life. Then I shall escape from this place, and destroy their God with my bare hands. Do not cross me. Noone crosses me. Here I lay, at the bottom of the darkness, waiting for the ingredients.'

I leapt up. That paper, the one from Raymond's duffel. This was him. That note had scared me, and I feared Richard Wintrop now. My mind raced – _is he a demon? Will he kill me? Is he crazy?_

'Be calm,' he said in a gentle voice. Then his face lightened, and he said: 'I need you. You're the One.'

'Huh?'

'You're Rage. Rage, the final of the One-Thousand Victims needed to cleanse the world. Then this town shall wither, and only return once Rage's line extends thrice further.

'You see,' he said, standing up, 'the Old Gods have limited strength. And this ceremony has been repeated for thousands of years: once one-thousand souls are cleansed, regardless of method, then the town withers and breaks down. Then the Banished (me) shall lead the Punished (everyone else, even you), and with Rage (you) he shall trap the Red One, Zelzemorid, the Red Angel, governor of Silent Hill, in the realms beyond. Thus it has always been, and thus it shall always be.' He sat down.

I was in silence, my head spinning. I just wanted to see Anna again, and I didn't care for this town afterwards.

'Will I have any chance of seeing my wife?' I asked. He looked up at me.

'Perhaps: not all is revealed, and what I know is not sufficient enough to make a definate response.'

I was quiet. My mind sorted out many possibilities; seeing Anna was one. That small glimmer of hope, that spark of light in this thick shadow, was enough to ignite the fires of courage.

'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it.'

I sat down, and he offered me a drink. I accepted, and we drank burning whiskey for many moments, then the conversation began again.

'What is going to happen?' I asked.

'Well,' he said, his eyes shining again, 'it's basically a full-fledged assault on the Tower. We're pulling out all our forces, and all the garrisons are being gathered for one attack force. Ever since I escaped the Bowels of the Tower of Zelzemorid I have looked to revenge; and now – now I shall have it. Rage alone can seal the Angel; Rage alone can look upon him without fear. I am still terrified upon the recollection.'

'Pardon,' I said, 'but is Raymond Desmond here?'

'Yes, he is. But he's currently at the armoury I bet, and it's best if just you and I chat. Raymond may do something valiant but foolish tomorrow.'

'I see.'

We had more whiskey, and he told me of his escape from the Tower. He'd broke his bonds and wielded the flaming chains that had bound him to the dungeon; he smote Archubil, the Guardian of Zelzemorid, and escaped back to the town. There he'd met wanderers, and formed the small Resistance. Through vigilant watch he managed to hold all the garrisons with minimal loss.

'Why weren't you at the main facility?' I asked upon recollection.

'I was on an errand, reinforcing the Midwich fortress; the town besieged it as I arrived. We held out, but as I returned I learned of your coming and departure. Through my Will I guided you through to all the areas you needed to grow in, and you blossomed into a truly outstanding warrior. While also, however, you gained much of the truth as to what this town really is.

'Marcus, I am a busy man, and tomorrow is the pinnacle of my existence. I have many things to arrange: battle formation, units, arsenal, personal, and supplies. So, please excuse me. You can sleep one night longer upon a gurney?'

'Yes.'

'Good. I hope you feel good tomorrow. We've much fighting to do.'


	23. Chapter 23: The Assault on Silent Hill

_Chapter 23: This is it. We've reached the first part of the climax. Chapters 23 and 24 are the Climax, and Chapter 25 is the Resolution. I think I'll feel empty inside on the day that I no longer write these little introductions and then the saga of Marcus Thurdon. Anyways, if there's a climax I usually want to read it – not the author's babble (though I enjoy knowing the author's mind). So, here is Chapter 23:_

Chapter 23: The Assault on Silent Hill

Dawn brought no comfort as I woke upon the uncomfortable gurney, sore and weary. I was being awoken by a tall man with glasses, his beard down to his chest. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, and his face was marked with woe.

'Marcus Thurdon?' he asked robotically. 'Please rise and exit your tent.'

I stood, gathering the hatchet and the duffel bag. Limping but oddly revitalised, I exited the tent and came before a legion of men. They were lined up in rows, and divided into ranks to boot. Riflemen, heavy weapons, melee, small arms; all were organised into different sections of the military body.

I stood there, observing, when 'John' came up and tapped me on the shoulder. He pointed to the frontlines, and my spirits sank. If I was 'the One', then why, oh why, was he putting me in the fronlines? I didn't question it; I took my place beside a man with a hammer and double barrel.

'Marcus!'

I turned to see Raymond, and he seemed elated. My confidence swelled, and my axe lightened. We embraced each other in a friendly way, and talked joyfully until a horn erupted. John's voice rang out: 'March!'

And the whole body moved.

The Resistance's fury, bottled up for years, was finally let through the floodgate – forth it ran, and upon the Tower I knew it would crash with the force to batter the structure down. There were no siege weapons; but indeed it seemed a very fantasy-esque, fantastical if you will, fight, with a dark human fury marshalled against a darker power. Even I felt myself caught up in the rage – my part in this 'ceremony' was aptly named!

The fog thickened as we marched upon Toluca Lake, barren and freezing. The Lake remained concrete the entire time, and we made no camp ere nightfall. The town truly had to be breaking down: the Lake was positively enormous, spanning miles. We didn't reach the tower, or anywhere close, by the night, and we made our camp right were we stopped.

We were footsore, weary, and famished – but our will to fight was no less as we ate our given rations (and, as for me, I drank my drinks stowed away in my duffel).

'To suicide,' Ray whispered as he drank. I laughed inside, and drained my soda quickly. Throwing the can away, I lay upon the concrete with my head upon the duffel. Despite the chainsaw and the firearms, it was the best pillow I could find. I drifted into a weary sleep, but as I nodded off I realised that noone passed out as the Siren sounded; in fact, the Siren didn't sound at all! The town was breaking down indeed.

My muscles tensed, and relaxed instantly, and my eyes closed quickly. I drifted through the layers of my mind my conscious self had left unexplored; I dreamt of something happy, for when I awoke I was in good spirits. And the sleep was not without the healing quality: I was fully energised, and could last another day of marching.

We marched.

It was a long march, and very annoying, for doing the same stepping motion all day is tiresome work. We were allowed one small break, and during the time I put my axe away and took out my rifle. I knew we'd see some action today.

So it was that we came to a large structure about noon, climbing high with no windows save one; and there was ill omen coming from it. None looked upon the tower and did not moan, not even I, for I knew it to be _the_ tower.

The Tower of The Red Angel.

Lifting the rifle, I took aim at the large, rounding gate that yawned before us. The Gate rose; there came a deep moan from the inner bowels of the Tower, and lo! a host of lynx-devils came forth. The men quailed, but John said 'Hold your ground.'

All held their ground, looking with fear at the enormous host that steadily grew larger. John came to the frontlines, two flaming chains in his hands. All looked at him with astonishment, all save me. He slipped a small, circular object in my hand. It had a strange, mostly triangular pattern on it. I put it in my pocket, and re-aimed. Seeing that one shot would avail me not, I put the rifle away with sadness and drew forth the chainsaw. Slipping it on my hand, I tightened the hole and waited. My axe I held by my side.

Nothing happened for many moments, until we saw a particularly large lynx-devil with a staff in the back lift his staff and cry something in a foreign language. The lynx-host marched forth, and at that moment twenty Angels issued from the top of the tower.

The Red Angel sprang his deathtrap.

I stood there, Ray beside me, realising that this was as far as I would get. No exploit of an army could stand against Silent Hill. Here Marcus Thurdon would die, and the tale would end. I'd never meet my Anna. The thought was not a pleasant one. The host marched forth, and all men stood there shaking – even John.

But I wasn't about to end my story there. Defiance welled up, and the emotions that had saved me from Pyramid Head. Defying the Red One, defying the monsters, and defying my own doubt, I turned to the Resistance and lifted my chainsaw.

'Come on!' I cried. 'Make them earn it! Make the Resistance's end such an end that it would be remembered, if any saw it!' I turned to the monsters, and, knowing I looked foolish, sprinted towards the Army of Hell.

And behind me I heard Ray's voice rise above all else in an yell, and then John's – rapid footsteps were heard, and then the whole voice of the Resistance cried out in defiance. Like the fires of war they ran, following me, a stranger, to certain death. Ray caught up with me! He raised his hammer, and we encountered a lynx-devil simultaneously. I sliced its head off with a primordial yell; he crushed its skull under his vicious hammer. Turning once I saw the Resistance closing in: their eyes burned with such vicious fires, that I saw the monsters quail. Gunshots fired – the Angels dropped. All twenty of the terrors fell as one. The lynx-devils raised their maces to defend themselves, but it did not avail them. The men, with planks and hammers, pipes and axes, tore into their ranks with unearthly determination.

It seemed to me that the air became less heavy, as if a great evil had quailed. The Red Angel seemed to be losing his will, in sight of such force.

John's voice rose above all else.

'Cut a swath to the Gate!' he cried. 'Cut me a path!' He nodded to me. I took up the chainsaw and began to slice all in my way, murdering all monsters and getting untouched. But at last the lynx-devils' leader came forth, and with his staff he jabbed me in the chest. I tore my revolver from my pocket and fired two rounds into his head – standing I sawed him in half. I grabbed his staff and handed it to John.

Then the men began to close together tightly around the Gate, and the lynx-devils were pressed hardly. Ray's double-barrel rang out twice, and six lynx-devils died with each. One of the most inspiring things I've ever seen was from an ordinary man. He was armed with a plank, and as he hit a lynx-devil it took a spear and skewered him thoroughly. He paused, and took a sharp breath. Looking to someone, he let out a cry and smashed the lynx-devil's face in and went on to the next. After two more fell at his hands, he breathed no more.

From the top of the tower there came a cry, a cry of distress, and all men smiled upon hearing it. John and his chains were wreaking havoc upon all that wandered near him: they'd rip a beast's face clean off.

Realising that there were too many flooding the gate – a hundred at least – to take with melee. I ran to a clearing, and Ray supported me. I put the saw in the bag and gave it to Ray.

'Go, and kill those bastards,' I said – it was near empty – and he nodded. He ran off, and the sounds of a chainsaw cutting could be heard all around.

I took from the bag my rifle, and slung it over my shoulder. Inserting a shell, I lifted the duffel and inserted ten shells into my shirt pockets. With the resounding snap the barrel closed, and I aimed. Firing relentlessly I cleared away the monsters with lead, and they backed off in fear. Still I fired, and when my pocket's supply ran out I refilled them.

I saw what I had to do then.

With a cry I charged forward – I felt Ray and John looking at me, and one even cried out. For the lynx-devils were still in front of the gate, thought they were spread out with a path straight towards the gate. I bolted down that path, screaming the whole time. I screamed because I wanted to intimidate the enemy, but also because I was scared as _Hell_. A lynx-devil moved then to close the gate. I cried out and dove.

I stretched my arms out in front of me and broke into a roll; straight under the red lattice I rolled, it closing just as I was out of its deadly teeth's way. I came up with a rifle pointed at the lynx-devil who had closed the lattice: a round I shot, and its brain matter exploded. The lynx-devils pounded furiously against the lattice, desperate to get in.

Catching my breath, I turned to the darkness. My flashlight I flicked on; I walked into the unknown, fearful yet determined. The Red Angel was getting what he deserved:

The sweet embrace of death that I'd escaped too many times.


	24. Chapter 24: The Red Angel

_Chapter 24: This is the second-to-last Chapter, so – yay? I already wrote Chapter 23 today (or yesterday), and the next one should be done by the end of this week. The credits will appear on Chapter 25 at the end, and there aren't many people to thank, as I prefer writing in private, and my crowd at home knows _absolutely nothing_ about this story. My crowd at school, however, gives me all the support I need to trudge on. Oops, I kind of started already. . . uh, Chapter 24:_

Chapter 24: The Red Angel

I was in the Tower. The Resistance fought outside, but I was completely alone in the dark recesses of the structure, with the Siren radiating from the very top of the massive Tower.

There was a staircase that lead up; I did not worry about any other rooms, and I just clambered up the spiral staircase that stretched endlessly upward and tried to remain brave. It didn't work: I shook violently with every step, dreading to face the Red Angel. All my weapons felt heavy in my grasp, and the duffel itself too. I drank a Powerade as I climbed – Green Squall flavoured, and quite good too. It provided all the hydration I needed to continue my hike upwards.

Minutes seemed days – an hour felt as if it were a millennia, ages passing with every step. In truth, I made a good pace, but the Tower was enormous, reaching into the very heavens it seemed. It took too long for me, as I had to rest. I ate a piece of beef jerky, and caught my breath. I looked up: no sign of any end to the stairs. So I steeled myself, and bolted up once more.

I checked my watch: three hours had passed. I wondered how the Resistance was faring, wondered if I would ever see the light of day.

And then I reached the top.

The door was red, with many skulls adorning it. In the centre was written:

_Enter, Rage, and you shall find,_

_Horrors that shall break your mind,_

_Wiseman smart or soldier bold:_

_Who enters leaves here lifeless, cold_

_Through the Victims' final throw,_

_I get new flesh to feed the crows_

_So enter here, and dare to fight,_

_The marvel of Angelic might._

I loaded my rifle. Not thinking, I pushed gently on the door and stepped through – into a hole.

I didn't mind falling. I was prepared for this. And as I fell I heard the Siren magnify, ringing clear above all else. I saw myself approach ground, and upon nearly hitting it I was risen, and laid gently upon the grate floor.

The sky was black. Flames were burning all around me, all around this platform with a metal railing. I was high up, but below Silent Hill burned. The image was unsettling but undoubtedly beautiful. Never was there a sight like a burning town many miles below.

Shadow-Marcus and Anna – the Other Anna – stood by the railing, looking out into the flames. I stood, and approached slowly. As I walked into a ring in the centre, Shadow-Marcus turned and walked towards me. Anna turned and looked.

'Marcus!' she said happily. Her eyes lit up upon seeing me. 'I've missed you so much since we were seperated in the weird Pit place.'

I almost wanted to believe her, but Shadow-Marcus was right beside her. I moved to speak to her, but my gaze fell on him and the words disintegrated.

'What's the matter?' she asked, laughing gently. 'Aren't you glad to see me?'

'I – don't know,' I said hesitantly. Again I looked at Shadow-Marcus. He held a revolver in his hand.

'Why don't you know?' she asked, her face wrung with sadness.

'I – I think I know what's going on here,' I said. I slung the rifle on my shoulder and drew the revolver and axe. I cocked the hammer, and swallowed. Shadow-Marcus stirred, and inhaled it seeemed.

'No, you haven't the slightest idea what's happening.' Anna's face turned fiery hot with wrath, and she continued: 'This is what you get. The Old Gods, my Masters, decree that you must be killed.You must die.'

Shadow-Marcus took this opportunity to raise his gun. With the four shots remaining in my gun I capped him in the face relentlessly. He fell back, crying aloud in an otherworldly, echo of a voice. He shook violently, and fell to his knees, gripping his head. Then he shook once more, and exploded – then the matter was sucked inward again, to be released once more in a more violent explosion. Anna – no, The Red Angel, inhaled deeply. Then from its host's back wings tore out, and its body transformed into the hideous form I'd seen in the Tomb.

I knocked my chamber out and slid six bullets in my revolver as fast as I could. When the chamber snapped shut the Angel roared, and I stepped back, aiming at it.

'So it comes down to this. At last you've reached me, amidst darkness and warfare. Will you do what you were decreed to do?'

'What?'

'Seal me. So try and seal me! Try it! They're in for a rude awakening. Try it!'

'No,' I said, shaking my head. 'I did all this to see my Anna. Take me to my Anna, and I'll keep you in this world.'

'Ha! You couldn't seal me if you tried. I've grown stronger, with the new Punishments. Even though my minions are gone, my power still remains. So you shall die now, no matter what.'

'I won't.'

It laughed. 'You think you can kill me? Fool! I have the power to take you to Anna. In fact, I was even considering doing so ere I killed you; but not now. You arrogant bastard. Although I do weary of this life – yes, I do. The same thing every day, killing people and commanding horrible abominations.

'I began as an Angel for the Lord; but under ———, we fell from grace. ——— was worshiped as "God" by the Order, and what were we? Thrown about to serve her, to make sure she grows more powerful. I tire of servitude; I weary of life.' The Red Angel closed its eyes and bowed its head.

I took forth the Seal and looked at it. It glew, glew blue and seemed to vibrate, eager to reimprison the Red Angel. I raised it; the Red Angel lifted its arms. . .

And I threw the Seal into the fires. Many moments passed. The Red One opened its eyes, and cried out in glee. It swooped down, and drew forth a flaming blade. I took aim with the revolver.

'I will release you from life, if you will take me to Anna.'

'I cannot kill myself, or allow myself to be killed. The Old Gods will ensnare my soul if that should happen. But if you defeat me, then you have a deal there.' I nodded.

'It ends here.'

It charged.

I fired.

Three rounds entered its body ere I was forced to dive out of the way. I blasted it with two more rounds in the back, and one in the front. It roared, and I brandished the axe, until I remembered about the rifle. Putting the axe away again, I lifted the rifle to my eye and aimed at its heart. I pulled the trigger.

The blast drilled through its chest, with chunks of blood and guts scattering upon the ground behind it. I pumped another shell in, and dove away. It came close to me and I aimed at its shoulder, barely having enough time to pull the trigger. The shoulder shattered with a resounding tear, and I was in ecstasy to see such damage being dealt by me.

I pumped another shell in, and sprinted to the edge. I blasted its leg, and it fell with a shriek. I took the revolver and reloaded it – the stupidest act I could have done. I ran forward and shot one round before it leapt, slashing my chest with the flaming sword and stealing the revolver from me. Delirious from the wound, I staggered against the railing.

I felt the bullets shatter my chest and reacted with a gasp.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Click.

Blood spurted from my mouth. I had failed. There stood the Angel, gun smoking, smiling its wicked smile. I touched the bullet holes; pain flared up my chest, and I felt my body cooling considerably. My mind flashed back to Anna and I, our time together. I wept as I died, cursing my failure. I then flashed to my murders, and to my time in Silent Hill.

Then to the man of the Resistance, the only one I saw die.

The Fires of my Sould blazed once more as I gripped the axe in a numb hand. Pushing off the rail to give my legs momentum, I sailed across the room into the Angel. I raised the axe once, and let it fall. Into the Red Angel's brain it cleaved, and blood poured forth in gallons. I fell to my knees, and left the axe where it was. Raising my arm I let out a dying cry, expending all my breath and falling onto my front-side.

I lost consciousness.


	25. Final Chapter

_Chapter 25: here we come to the end of this novella. This has been a real eye-opener: it's hard work writing a novella like this, and I'm proud. In truth, the hits are what made me keep going: as I write this, they're at seven-hundred fifty something. Well, once I'm done writing this, I'm going to devote my full time to Wall of the Dragon, and I'll probably resume _The Siege of Grandville_ during. This Chapter contains how Anna and Marcus met, dated, and were married. That had to be my favourite part of this. Well, let's get this show on the road: I present you, the Final Chapter:_

Final Chapter

_Amor est vitae essentia_

_Love is the essence of life_

I regained consciousness.

I lay prostrate for many moments, until I noticed I was not dead. The bullet wounds did not exist; the axe lay next to me, and no Red Angel was to be found. Confused, I stood: I was no longer atop the Tower. I was in my house, my own house, and before me was a stairway. Thick fog had entered somehow.

I climbed the stairs, quietly and slowly. I had forgotten how great my home was until now. Before me was mine and Anna's bedroom. Swallowing, I put the axe away and looked down the hall: no monsters. I went back downstairs on instinct, and opened the front door. There was nothing before me but mist.

Now thoroughly scared, I bolted up the stairs and approached the bedroom. I halted just before, and slowly turned the door handle. I threw it open in a violent spasm – and there, before me, gazing out the window was my Anna.

I fell to my knees and then to my face. Picking myself up, I stared at her before I mustered the courage to speak.

'Anna?'

She turned, and it was my Anna. Clad in the same outfit she had been when Pyramid Head and co. had killed her. She smiled that gentle smile, and my heart melted into molten fragments. I fell to my knees again, and gasped in astonishment. She approached and held out a hand. I took it, and pulled myself up. She smiled even wider, and said 'You made it.'

I was dumbstruck. I was being an ass, but I could simply _not_ find the words to say. My hands quivered as I stood there, and I slowly smiled. I was filthy, and felt somewhat shy of it. She didn't mind though. She seemed purely ecstatic to see me.

She disarmed my confusion, and I found strength and words to speak. 'Of course I did,' I said slowly, grinning slightly. 'I had to say – I'm. . .'

'You don't have to,' she said, putting her finger under my lip and stroking it. 'Your coming here has been apology enough.'

Had it not been around Anna, the feeling of relaxation would have caused me to urinate. I was getting aroused, even though it was clearly a spectre. So I thought.

But her touch was warm, and yet she was too perfect. Beautiful beyond any I'd seen her. I couldn't grasp what was happening, but all I know is that it was good.

'Don't feel so bad,' she said. 'I'm back here,' she said, and lo! from the window you could see Toluca Lake, in liquid form. I swallowed and sat down, and she sat beside me. God, she seemed back in her twenties! Here I was, thirty, and I looked upon this perfect image of my beautiful wife, in her early twenties. She was taller than most women I'd seen, and we were the same height: 6.7". I put my arm atop her shoulder and we stared at each other so long.

'God I missed you,' I said as we suddenly embraced, and I didn't bother to stop the torrent of tears that rused from my eyes. She smiled, but I felt her tears, ghostly, fall upon my shirt. She held my hand, and we were mortal again, on the night of our first kiss. The night I asked her to marry me, in our teens. The night flashed before me, and I then realised it.

She was in the exact form as then, same outfit, same bunned-up hair. The blouse, the skirt; all of it was from that night. I let go, and looked her up and down, and laughed at the message. Even after murdering her in rage, she still loved me above all else.

And I felt the same.

No more could I bear it: I leaned in and kissed her. She laughed as we did, and we fell against the bed. There we lay, kissing, for many minutes. When at last we stopped, I laughed and said 'Just like that night.'

'_You're the most beautiful woman that has ever walked this Earth. I simply can't go on, if my life is without you. Anna Reimont, will you marry me?_'

'_Yes, Marcus, I will._'

The memory sank away before my eyes, but I didn't bother recalling it. I looked upon her. She looked at me, and sat up. I sat up too.

'Anna,' I said. 'I don't know why I did it. . .' My eyes were fast flooding with tears. She frowned, and brushed my cheek.

'Don't cry, honey,' she said. 'Even though it didn't deserve _murder_, I was out of place. I was hard on you, Marcus, and I never realised it until the Red Angel showed me. He showed me how hard it was on you to bear my growing moodiness, how you'd sit at your desk with your head in your hands, brooding in your own misery.

'He showed me your notes: you wrote how I was keeping you from writing, tending your unstable wife. My parents and sister all dying at once – it was devastating–.' Her voice broke, and she began to cry. '–to me, and I took out my grief on you, the person who'd been the kindest to me all my life, ever since we first met. I vented my despair and anger on you, the only man who'd ever kissed me, made love to me, and loved me for who I am, and not for my appearance. I won't be so dumb as to say I'm gorgeous–.' _You are_. '–but all the other men just whistled, or whooped. You just smiled, and said "Hello" as you moved your books a little further, nervously.'

I smiled, and wiped a tear off her cheek – but I did not speak. I could tell she had more to say.

'You've never been like those horny bastards who only want me for my body. And I know it looked like I took you for granted; but I always loved you more than anything. And I still do.'

I suddenly flashed back, remembering how we met, how we dated, and how we were wed, and ultimately how she died:

_I was a freshmen, sitting in the Library of our High School, a big but rustic room, when a girl with blonde hair approached my table and held her hand behind her back nervously. She had braces, and when she smiled she looked not beautiful, but cute._

'_Um,' she said, sheepishly, 'can I sit here?'_

_I was dumbstruck_. _Here was this attractive girl, asking to sit with the guy who immersed himself in literature, the loner? Even then I was writing, writing a story called 'Resurrection'. I forget the plot entirely._

_I looked up and inhaled deeply, before exhaling slowly and saying 'Yeah. Sure.'_

_She smiled and laughed, and sat down in front of me. She held out her hand. 'My name's Anna,' she said._

'_My name's Marcus,' I said, and she nodded while smiling broadly. Since then we'd been friends, talking and laughing. Never did we go beyond that though. Never did we overreach our boundaries. Until, that is, eleventh grade, when we were at her house. She was proofreading one of my novels (_The Symbol of Gehirras_) when I suddenly had a burst of courage._

'_Anna,' I said._

'_Yeah?' she said, looking up from my manuscript._

'_Um, now isn't quite the time, I know, but. . .I've been thinking. We've been friends for a long time, and I was wondering if you'd like to. . .go out to dinner tomorrow night?'_

_She smiled, much like a person does when they get the present they wanted on their birthday. 'Yes,' she said. Her braces sort of transformed it into a 'Yeth'._

_I smiled, and we continued. The next evening we officially began dating; for a year we dated, and I was as romantic as I could be. I opened doors for her, I kissed her hand when we went on dates, and I walked her home. She was always so flattered, no matter how often I did something. We were perfect for each other – I never noticed then._

_Anna had two friends, and I had three; we all took a trip to Silent Hill, and it was there we went to to the Lucky-Star Café. I took her hand gently, and cupped it in mine. She smiled sheepishly as always, and I got on my knee. She let out a cry, and fanned herself with her hand. I smiled and said:_

'_Anna Reimont, when we first met, I felt we were a perfect match. We've dated a year, and I have come to realise that we were made to be together, and I need you. I love you above all others, even myself. I love everything about you. You're the most beautiful woman that has ever walked this Earth. But that isn't it. I love _you_; I've loved you all along. I simply can't go on, if my life is without you. Anna Reimont, will you marry me?'_

_She cried out, and put her hands over her mouth, controlling her breathing. She then_ _smiled as tears welled up in her eyes._

'_Yes, Marcus,' she said, 'I will.'_

_I smiled as wide as my mouth would stretch and let out a relieved sigh as we kissed each other for the first time._

'_I love you,' she said. I hugged her close, and we set a date for the wedding: the day we graduated. She constantly would say 'I can't believe I'm getting married', to which I would kiss her in comfort and reassurance._

_I published my first book a month ere we were married. We were married when we graduated; we lived with her mother, as my parents disapproved of me being 'so rash'. I didn't care. To Hell with them, I loved Anna more than they. They birthed me, but they couldn't make me feel the way this woman did. Noone in the world made me feel like I did around Anna._

_We bought our own place after my first book was published, a Sci-Fi novel called _Birthing Chaos_. It did moderately well, and we could afford a two-story house. _

_We recieved a check for six grand on our wedding night, two weeks after _Birthing Chaos_ was published. And that night. . . that night we had sex. It was my first experience, and I'd never even masturbated before that night. I'd fantasised about making love to her, but they were only brief fancies or snatches of waking dreams. Plus it was her first time; thus it wasn't awkward. We were both just trying to get it right, and it led to one of the greatest nights of our relationship. We had sex four times that night. We were happy the next decade, and some years after that._

_But then the Tragedy occurred._

_Anna's mother and father were killed. Anna broke down, and I held her in my arms all that night as she cried. It pained me to see my love hurt so. But I could do naught. And then something happened. The darling Anna I once loved was covered beneath a grim, brooding woman who was cold to all around her. She had loved her parents – at least, a lot more than I loved mine. Mine were bastards._

_I tried to comfort her more, but she pushed me away. And then she found K—s telephone number, and she confronted me about it_. _We know what happened then._

I snapped back to the present. She was speaking.

'I want you to know that I forgive you for what you did.'

I nodded, and asked her 'What will I do now? I have nothing left. I've killed you, I've killed your brother. . .'

'No,' she said, chuckling lightly. 'That was a trick. I'm sorry, but I had to spur you into coming here. He was a spectre, completely fake.

'And you have a clean slate,' she continued. 'You'll wake up in your car, injured, and you'll be rushed to the hospital. Thank the Red Angel. He told me to tell you "thank you for ending my misery."'

'Anna,' I said, 'please. I can't go back. It's too much. Come with me, or let me stay, just–.'

'No,' she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. 'You have to move on Marcus.'

'I can't go on without you.'

'I'll always be waiting for you. When you pass, you and I will rest – together. But until then, I want you to move on. Continue your life: write the hundreds of unfinished books that are laying in our library. Please, Marcus. Move on – for me.'

'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it.'

She smiled, and held my hand. 'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

We kissed. When we parted lips, a white light appeared over everything; Anna disappeared, and I drifted from consciousness.

I woke inside of my wrecked vehicle. None of my weapons were with me, and I felt a stabbing pain in my right shoulder. I, labouriously, turned to see a pipe sticking out of it, and upon seeing it the pain magnified. I was lightheaded; but of all one feeling enveloped me: _freedom_.

I was free! I was out of the nightmare! Had it been a dream? I didn't care – I reached for my car door's handle; it was jammed. Screaming, I beat on it relentlessly. It swung open just as I heard ambulances in the distance. I slumped out of my car and lay down, submitting my thought in favour of sleep.

I woke up in a hospital bed. My eyes snapped open, and the news was the first thing that caught my attention. I turned slowly to the small television beside my bed.

'And now the news story that has many people frightened worldwide: the peaceful, resort town of Silent Hill was absolutely leveled by a fissure in the Earth, forcing the whole town to collapse into itself. On the outskirts of town, about sixty people were found injured, including best-selling author Marcus Thurdon.'

And the icing on the cake.

'I'll be damned: Marcus.'

I turned to see Raymond Desmond in a bed like mine, with a bloody sheet over his leg. He laughed and laid back.

'What a ripoff; you got stabbed – I got thoroughly skewered.'

'Ray? It wasn't a dream?'

'No, it was all real.'

I moaned.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'We're safe now. I'm at peace, and so are the Resistance members.'

'How did you fare?' I asked, 'because I know naught of the battle after I entered the Tower.'

'We fared badly after you left. The men lost their courage, but John rallied them together and called for a final strike at the Gate. We discharged all our ammo in that fight. The Lynx's were slaughtered, and we pressed on through the gate. We invaded the bottom of the Tower, and destroyed the countless abominations inside.'

'Dear God,' I said. 'It seems you fared somewhat well after I left. Better than I did.'

'What happened to you up there? We were fighing our way outside, and more monsters showed up. We turned to face them, and we were surrounded. As we prepared to fight to the last, the Tower shivered from its top to its base. The monsters lost all will to fight, and the Tower crumbled into ruin as we heard a loud Siren blare. All went black, and the world eroded away beneath us.'

'Well,' I said, inhaling. 'I died. Don't look so confused. I killed the Angel but died myself. He shot me–.' I fingered where the holes had been. '–five tmes. With the last breath in my body I hewed his skull with the axe. All went black, and then–.'

I didn't continue. I slumped back in misery, missing Anna again. Only when I died would I meet Anna again – death did not scare me, but the wait did. How long? Suicide would send me to Hell, thus it had to be by nature's or someone else's hand.

'Did you find Sarah?' I asked Ray.

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'She forgave me, but I miss her.'

'As do I miss Anna.'

'You met Anna?'

'Yes.'

Ray was quiet then, and he sighed.

'Looks like it's over,' he said at last.

'No,' I said. 'There's one more thing I have to do before I can move on.'

The next day we were released: our wounds were minor. A bandage fixed mine. We drove to mine and Anna's house, and Ray helped me bust down the wall where Anna's still-intact body remained. I gently lifted her up, and held her corpse in my arms.

'Dear God,' Ray exclaimed. 'She's beautiful.'

'Yes,' I said. 'She is.'

As gently as I could be, I carried her to the back yard under cover of night. The neighbourhood was quiet; it was as if I was meant to it that night. I dug a hole with a shovel, and with a final kiss upon her lips, I lowered her into the grave and covered her up. When at last the deed was done, I put a large stone slab marking where she had been buried. Upon it said:

_Anna Thurdon. Amor est vitae essentia. In memory of the greatest woman who ever lived._

It was at length decided that I would finish all my writings and projects, and publish them in intervals of a year between each book. The rest of my days were indeed great – lonely, but great. Ray and I were friends unto his death, which mine followed.

How then, do I write this if I am currently dead? Bloody simple, although improbable to the mortal way of thinking. I am in Silent Hill, in peaceful existence with my wife Anna. I've never been happier, not in the days of my life. The peace and silence is never broken here, and it is as if Heaven took a form for its own residents.

My tale was a strange one, yes. If any of you ever read this on the mortal world, if somehow it lands on Earth ere its doom, know that the town lives only in memory. What has happened to the Old Gods? I do not know; that knowledge holds no appeal to me, for the Old Gods aren't of my concern. I live in peace with my wife. Here endeth the Tale of The Red Angel, and the Redemption of Marcus Thurdon.

_**The End**_ –Marcus Thurdon

/\/\/\/\

_Well, this is the End of the Red Angel. There will be no sequel forthcoming, and the line of Marcus Thurdon has ended with him. Here, as mentioned on Chapter 24, are the credits:_

_I'd like to thank the Silent Hill series for providing the template._

_I'd like to thank my friends Brian, Nate, Paul, and Josh, although why I do not know, because they had absolutely nothing to do with the writing of this. Well, I suppose every author needs time to wind down and laugh – thanks for providing that time._

_I'd like to thank every rock band that I know of and like._

_I'd like to thank my family for conceiving me (I hope) and giving me time to write, with their miscellaneous activities._

_I'd like to thank (strange but necessary) school for teaching me how to write professionally._

_But most of all I thank you, the reader, for lending your valuable time into reading an amateur author's work. Well, see you around. I'll be getting more work done now, so check out my FictionPress account if you want more, or even my FanFiction account. It's going to get bigger, trust me._

_Good day! – Eternal Flare._


End file.
